SEED  OF  THE  SUN 


BY 

WALLACE    IRWIN 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  BLOOMING  ANGEL,"  "TRIMMED 
WITH  RED,"  "LETTERS  OF  A  JAPANESE 

SCHOOLBOY,"   ETC. 


NEW  ^Sr    YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    1921, 
BY   GEORGE    H.    DORAN   COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    I92O,   BY  THE    CURTIS    PUBLISHING   COMPANY 


PRINTED    IN   THE    UNITED    STATES    OF    AMERICA 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  A  TOWN  AND  A  NAME                   .        •        •  9 

II  A  DECISION  IN  THE  NIGHT          *        ?        .  23 

III  BARON  TAZUMI  ....*•  32 

IV  HENRY  JOHNSON  ....        s        •  42 
V  THE  OLD  WIFE  AND  THE  NEW  .        *        •  55 

VI  AN  HOUR'S  WEAKNESS  .        .        .       65 

VII  THE  OTISUKIS     ......       85 

VIII  FIRST  GLIMPSES  ..,.»•       95 

IX  JUST  ONE  MORE  •  IO4 

X  A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT  .         .        v        *        .118 

XI  DUNC  LEACY       .         .         .         •         •         .129 

XII  A  DANCE  ON  THE  ISLAND  .         .        .         .     139 

XIII  CONSCIENCE  IN  THE  TEMPLE      .         ,        .     154 

XIV  THE  CHIMERA  AGAIN  .         .        *        ••        •     169 
XV  CHIZO-SAN  ,         .         .        .        .         •        -     173 

XVI  DUNC  MAKES  A  BET  .         .        .        .         .185 

XVII  A  TALK  WITH  THE  ADMIRAL      .         .        .198 

XVIII  THE  VERY  NOBLE  GENTLEMAN  .         .        .    208 

XIX  ANNA  DECIDES    ......     220 

XX  HENRY'S  TRANSLATIONS      ....     228 

XXI     STRATEGIC  RETREAT      .....     237 

v 


VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XXII 

PACK 

XXIII 

THE  GIRL  FROM  OROVILLE  .        s        , 

.        260 

XXIV 
XXV 

MR,  HELMHOLZ  CALLS       .        .        . 
THE  SALE   ...... 

.        268 
280 

XXVI 

THE  HEAVENS  REPLY  .... 

.        291 

XXVII 

THE  LAST  NIGHT       .... 

•         302 

XXVIII 

THE  VANISHING   SATO 

•        311 

XXIX 

A  NOTE  AND  AN  ANSWER  .        .        a 

•        318 

XXX 

HENRY  TELLS  HER  WHY  .        $        s 

*        325 

XXXI 

EASTWARD  BOUND                ,  ;        •        « 

•     335 

XXXII 
XXXHI 

PRESIDIO  HILLS                    A        B        s 
BLY     . 

•     342 

•        X  S  I 

SEED  OF  THE  SUN 


TO  THE  GENIUS  OF  FRANK  NORRIS 

By  the  stark  sentries  at  the  Gate 

The  deep,  grey  waters  pour 
That  men  may  love  and  men  may  hate 

On  our  romantic  shore. 

Your  vision  like  the  Western  gale 
Swept  this  broad  empire  through; 

And  who  am  I  to  tell  a  tale 
In  memory  of  you 

Who  read  the  hearts  of  common  men 

Beneath  the  mists  and  sun 
And  forged  a  javelin  from  your  pen 

That  justice  might  be  done? 


CHAPTER  I:     A  TOWN  AND  A  NAME 


EARLY  spring  air  was  gorgeous  with  flying  kites  and 
flying  clouds  over  the  little  short  town  with  the  little 
short  name — a  name,  by  the  way,  which  the  Japanese  in 
habitants  could  not  pronounce  because  the  letter  /  will 
always  be  an  obstacle  to  the  fluent  tongues  of  Nippon.  The 
younger  and  more  progressive  referred  to  it  as  "Bry" ;  the 
conservative  ones  adhered  to  the  Japanese  name  which  they 
had  given  it  when  first  they  decided  that  the  region  round 
the  old  Ely  tract  was  worthy  of  attention.  Such  of  the 
villagers  as  could  read  English — these  being  in  the  majority 
— recognized  the  name  Ely  when  they  saw  it,  as  they  could, 
plainly  painted  in  giant  letters  on  the  side  of  the  packing 
house  or  less  prominently  displayed  at  either  end  of  the 
Southern  Pacific  way-station.  But  to  the  slanting  black 
eyes  of  its  inhabitants  Ely  was,  at  best,  a  barbarian  word. 
Indeed,  as  a  settlement  for  Californians,  the  town  of  Ely 
had  long  since  ceased  to  exist. 

Sparse  February  rains  had  been  blown  again  into  the 
Sierras,  a  north  wind  was  drying  away  the  good  moisture 
of  heaven,  and  the  yellow  folk  of  Ely — those  sufficiently 
mature  to  worry  about  Nature's  whims — were  collected  in 
Mr.  Sago's  general  store,  there  to  gather  wisdom  from 
the  lips  of  the  Honorable  Sago  or  of  the  still  more  hon 
orable  Mr.  S.  Oki,  local  secretary  of  the  Beneficent  Society. 
Bow-legged  little  women,  dressed  in  hand-me-down  Ameri 
can  clothes,  were  assembled  on  the  porch  of  Mr.  Sago's 
establishment,  a  respectful  distance  removed  from  the 
conference  of  their  lords.  Their  large,  broad  faces  bobbing 

9 


10          • ; :  .  - .       S£JE»  XKF.:  THE  SUN 

and  smiling  jabpve  their  undersized  bodies  gave  them  more 
than  eytrj  the  .'apppariiiQe/ioT quaint  toys  cheaply  outfitted  in 
the  style  of  the  day. 

It  was  Sunday  in  Ely.  Moreover,  the  year  had  not  yet 
awakened  to  the  season  of  growing.  Here,  then,  was  an 
afternoon  in  which  the  most  industrious  people  on  the  face 
of  the  troubled  earth  could  breathe  a  little  and  exchange 
ideas  to  their  mutual  benefit.  Tinny  automobiles,  short- 
nosed  and  noisy,  were  bringing  in  fresh  loads  of  Asiatic 
farmers,  father  sitting  majestically  at  the  wheel,  mother 
reverently  huddled  at  his  side,  abundant  offspring  in  the 
tonneau.  Up  and  down  the  hilly  lane,  leading  at  right 
angles  from  the  main  street,  stunted  men  with  their  stunted 
families  were  filing  along  toward  the  local  motion-picture 
theater,  intent  upon  the  comic  deeds  of  Chaplin-san,  great 
among  the  long-haired  ones  of  the  West;  or  they  were 
shuffling  in  and  out  of  the  village  drug  store,  whose  pro 
prietor  was  no  less  a  person  that  Minejiro  Akagashi, 
leader  of  men. 

Kites  were  flying  over  Ely,  a  yellow  child  with  keen, 
flat-lidded  eyes  at  the  end  of  every  string.  Remarkable 
kites  they  were,  too,  as  they  darted  and  plunged  in  the 
freshening  wind,  making  the  sky  gorgeous  with  their  .purple 
bat-like  wings,  demon  faces  and  party-colored  bodies. 
They  gave  to  the  ugly,  commonplace  settlement  its  one 
touch  of  romance.  Over  square-rigged  store  fronts  and 
battered  garages,  over  the  far-reaching  orchard  rows,  over 
the  slab-sided  packing  house  by  the  Southern  Pacific  station 
darted  the  toy  devils,  now  poising  sarcastically,  now  plung 
ing  as  though  about  to  remove  the  town  of  Ely  by  force 
of  tooth  and  claw. 

Mrs.  Awaga,  wife  of  the  Methodist  minister,  stood  on 
the  porch  of  her  husband's  shabby  church  looking  enviously 
across  at  the  Ely,  California,  Buddhist  temple,  whose  roof 
had  been  shingled  the  week  before  and  whose  brand-new 
surface  had  been  treated  to  its  first  coat  of  paint.  Just 


A  TOWN  AND  A  NAME  11 

what  she  was  thinking  concerns  us  not  at  this  period  in  our 
story.  Possibly  her  thoughts  were  untranslatable,  for  the 
Japanese  mind  is  peculiar.  She  was  a  prim  little  woman, 
straighter  and  better  proportioned  than  most  of  her  coun 
trywomen.  Her  appearance  there  was  but  a  symbol — 
symbol  of  the  new  God  warring  with  the  old. 

Was  it  symbolic,  too,  that  she  looked  toward  the  sky  to 
watch  the  play  of  paper  demons?  At  that  instant  a  little 
red-and-yellow  kite,  more  spiteful  than  the  others,  was 
looping  innumerable  loops  over  the  nubby  spire  o-f  the 
Methodist  church.  It  came  so  low  that  it  grazed  the  roof. 
Then  a  gust  of  wind  carried  it  up.  Again  it  plunged — 
there  was  a  clatter  of  wood  and  paper  as  it  beat  itself  to 
death  against  the  steeple,  giving  a  shapeless  note  of  color 
to  that  drab  and  leaky  house  of  worship  where  £he  Rev 
erend  Professor  I.  Awaga  had  labored  so  long  to  inject  a 
white  man's  religion  under  a  brown  skin. 

Now  this  is  but  a  passing  snapshot  of  the  town  whose 
name,  defying  race  and  color,  remains  so  stubbornly  Anglo- 
Saxon.  Such  motorists  as  go  bowling  through  this  corner 
of  Little  Japan  might  wonder  at  the  word  "Ely"  so  legibly 
painted  on  the  Southern  Pacific  station.  Was  there  ever  a 
Mr.  Ely? 

ii 

On  the  afternoon  when  paper  demons  flew  over  the  village 
of  Ely,  and  Mrs.  Awaga  stared  unfriendly  at  the  pagan 
emblem  across  from  her  husband's  church,  three  amiable 
Americans  sat  in  a  pompous  New  York  drawing-room  and 
struggled  to  talk  away  the  effects  of  an  old-fashioned  Sun 
day  dinner.  It  was  one  of  those  houses  which  we  associate 
with  the  name  of  England's  most  maligned  of  queens, 
Victoria.  It  had  been  built  in  the  day  when  downtown  was 
uptown  and  when  fashionable  New  Yorkers  seemed  to  have 
borrowed  the  architectural  tastes  of  Mr.  P.  T.  Barnum, 
then  doing  business  in  his  justly  famous  museum. 


12  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

| 

Aunt  Julia  Stannard,  one  of  the  fiercest  conservatives  on 
the  Island  of  Manhattan,  had  done  little  to  change  the 
nature  of  the  house  which  spelled  "respectability"  in  her 
worldly  primer.  The  dining-room,  just  beyond  where  the 
group  were  seated,  glistened  with  knobby  examples  of  the 
black-walnut  period.  True,  she  had  attempted  to  modern 
ize  the  drawing-room,  but  in  doing  so  she  had  created  a 
nightmare.  Mr.  Carlo  Dulcimer,  the  reigning  interior 
decorator,  had  inveigled  her  into  having  the  walls  paneled 
and  tinted  a  faded  washerwoman  blue.  Right  there  im 
provement  had  stopped  at  Aunt  Julia's  sharp  command. 
Rosewood  chairs,  with  pomegranates  carved  to  bruise  the 
back  of  the  sitter,  matched  the  stiff  horsehair-upholstered 
couch,  and  the  couch  watched  two  cabinets  through  whose 
glass  doors  Dresden  statuettes  stared  inanely.  An  ebony 
grand  square  piano,  a  Wilton  carpet  and  a  few  family  por 
traits  in  hard  gilt  frames  completed  the  scene  in  which  three 
good  friends  sat  knee  to  knee  making  the  best  of  their 
Sunday  afternoon. 

The  aroma  of  Sunday  cooking  filled  the  air,  giving  a 
psychologic  suggestion  of  funeral  baked  meats  or  of  burnt 
offerings  to  a  divinity  in  broadcloth. 

"Hi-ho !"  drowsed  Zudie  Brand,  throwing  back  a  head  of 
honey-colored  hair  and  opening  her  pretty  mouth  to  an 
undeniable  yawn. 

"If  you  feel  like  that/*  smiled  her  widowed  sister,  Anna 
Ely,  "why  don't  you  go  to  bed?" 

"Why  don't  you?"  echoed  the  naval  officer,  who  bore 
on  his  sleeves  sufficient  gold  braid  to  indicate  the  rank  of 
lieutenant  commander  in  the  United  States  Navy. 

"I'm  sorry,"  apologized  the  girl,  raising  her  hand  to  shield 
a  yawn  that  was  already  out.  "They're  perfect  cannibal 
orgies,  these  Sunday  dinners.  Aunt  Julia  thinks  you  can't 
be  a  Christian  unless  you  fill  up  like  an  anaconda  on  the 
seventh  day." 

"That's  what  makes  it  a  day  of  rest,"  Lieutenant  Com- 


A  TOWN  AND  A  NAME  13 

mander  Footridge  took  the  liberty  of  explaining.  "When 
you're  unable  to  do  anything  but  sleep,  well  then " 

Zudie's  hazel  eyes  turned  involuntarily  toward  the  heavy 
walnut  stairs  up  which  Aunt  Julia's  upholstered  form  had 
struggled  toward  Sabbatical  coma. 

Anna  Ely  was  paying  but  faint  attention  to  these  light 
remarks,  obviously  exchanged  for  the  purpose  of  killing 
time.  Life  in  this  house  had  been  hard  to  endure,  but  she 
considered  Zudie's  remarks  about  Aunt  Julia  a  trifle  out  of 
taste.  She  wished  a  lot  of  things  for  Zudie  then;  wished 
that  her  agile  mind  would  learn  to  settle  down  to  some 
thing;  wished  that  she  could  be  kinder  to  poor  Sid  Foot- 
ridge,  who  adored  her. 

The  two  sisters,  seated  on  either  side  of  the  naval  uni 
form,  were  interesting  by  way  of  contrast.  The  family 
resemblance  was  scarcely  distinguishable.  It  shone  forth 
occasionally  in  a  sudden  expression  of  the  face;  that  was 
all.  Zudie's  body  was  quick  and  agile — a  dancer's  body. 
Her  features  were  small,  and  innumerable  ringlets  in  her 
bright  hair  seemed  to  suggest  a  multitude  of  wayward 
thoughts  in  the  little  brain  beneath.  She  was  just  turned 
twenty-one. 

Anna  Ely  was  seven  years  older  than  her  sister.  She 
had  none  of  Zudie's  sprightly  prettiness.  She  was  a  beauty 
of  heroic  mold,  tall,  full  figured  and  slow.  Her  pale  skin 
was  as  pure  as  a  child's,  her  eyes  clear  gray,  her  brown 
hair  as  lustrous  as  it  was  simple  in  arrangement.  She  had 
the  look  of  a  woman  who  is  clean  from  the  heart  out.  She 
was  no  great  conversationalist.  Zudie's  high-pitched  voice 
went  on  trippingly,  full  of  the  tailor-made  accents  imparted 
by  Miss  Gault's  finishing  school;  Anna's  contralto  was 
sweet  and  natural.  And  yet  they  were  both  women  to  love, 
however  differently  they  approached  the  baffling  phenome 
non  we  have  learned  to  call  life. 

"If  we  could  turn  on  the  phonograph,"  suggested  Zudie 


14  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

Brand,  "we  might  be  able  to  dance  down  that  plum  pudding 
and  hard  sauce." 

"Don't  think  of  such  a  thing!"  said  Anna,  coming  out 
of  her  trancelike  state.  "If  Aunt  Julia  should  wake  up  and 
hear  you  dancing " 

"We  might  give  her  the  Holy  City,"  Sid  Footridge  was 
so  kind  as  to  hint. 

"Hi-ho!"  lamented  Zudie.  "If  I  was  making  the  world 
I'd  end  the  week  with  Saturday  night  and  begin  it  with 
Monday  morning.  Having  to  sit  indoors  on  a  Sunday 
afternoon  when  there  isn't  enough  pep  in  the  air  to  commit 
suicide  by — I'd  rather  be  damned  outright  and  have  a  good 
time  doing  it." 

"Zudie !"  cautioned  Anna,  but  she  smiled  upon  the  word. 

"Tell  you  what  let's  do,"  said  Footridge,  his  sandy  face 
flushing  with  an  idea  which  he  must  have  felt  sure  would 
be  rejected.  "I'll  charter  a  hansom  cab  and  we'll  float 
round  town.  I've  got  to  be  aboard  ship  at  five,  but  we 
could  get  a  breath  of  air,  and  it  might  save  Zudie  from 
suicide." 

This  last  sentence  included  a  wink  toward  Anna. 

"I  don't  want  to  float,"  said  Zudie,  one  of  her  small  feet 
thrust  moodily  forward  to  kick  away  a  footstool.  "I  want 
to  dance  and  gambol  and  be  alive." 

Footridge  maintained  the  cautious  air  of  a  young  man 
striving  to  say  the  diplomatic  thing  in  a  household  torn  by 
warring  factions. 

"After  all,"  he  grinned,  "an  old-fashioned  Sunday  after 
noon  sort  of  whittles  up  your  appetite  for  Monday.  Far 
as  I'm  concerned,  I've  met  a  lot  worse  horrors  than  your 
aunt's  perfectly  corking  food." 

"Every  day'll  be  Sunday  by  and  by,"  quoth  Zudie  pessi 
mistically. 

But  noise  at  the  front  door  brought  diversion.  A  treble 
voice  shrilling,  "Aw,  mother!"  and  a  still  more  treble  voice 
echoing  the  same  summons  were  stilled  by  the  acrid  cau- 


A  TOWN  AND  A  NAME  15 

tion:  "Can't  ye  be  qui't  now?  Ye'd  think  an  enjine  was 
a-comin'  tootin'  through  th'  door.  An'  yer  aunt  asleep  too." 

"That's  my  bad,  bad  boy,"  whispered  Anna  to  the 
visitor  before  she  called  out,  "Come  in,  Kipps !" 

The  bad,  bad  boy  appeared  in  the  doorway  looking  as 
saintly  as  an  Eton  collar  and  a  new  blue  suit  of  clothes, 
obviously  for  Sunday,  can  make  a  boy  o>f  eight — and  grow 
ing  on.  He  had  his  mother's  brilliant  eyes.  The  rest  of 
his  face  gave  an  impression  of  teeth  and  freckles.  A  little 
girl  of  six,  perfection's  self  in  her  squirrel-collared  coat, 
came  up  at  the  rear  and  stood  primly,  her  hands  concealed 
in  a  muff.  She  was  an  unusually  pretty  child  and  had  in 
herited  her  good  looks  from  Lieut.  Alexander  Ely,  who 
was  killed  at  sea  during  the  last  month  of  the  Great  War. 

"Kipps  wouldn't  put  on  his  overshoes,"  announced  the 
small  girl,  never  moving  from  her  attitude  of  perfection. 

"Look  here,  mother,"  up  spoke  the  accused  in  his  own 
behalf,  "what  am  I  going  to  do  with  those  things  when 
they're  two  sizes  too  big  for  me?  I  have  to  slip  along  on 
my  toes  to  keep  'em  from  falling  off." 

"He'll  catch  his  death,"  creaked  a  pessimistic  voice  from 
the  hall. 

Dimly  in  the  background  a  little  wisp  of  an  Irishwoman 
could  be  seen,  her  face  puckered  like  a  sour  apple,  her  dark 
eyes  prophesying  doom. 

"Aren't  you  old  enough  to  know  better?"  asked  his 
mother,  resorting  to  an  ancient  formula.  "Now  come  in, 
dear,  and  say  good  afternoon  to  Commander  Footridge." 

Kipps  cast  his  brilliant  eyes  across  the  room.  Appar 
ently  he  had  been  unaware  of  an  audience,  and  the  moment 
was  embarrassing.  However,  he  made  the  most  of  it,  and 
exchanged  a  handshake  as  man  to  man. 

"Good  gracious,"  exclaimed  the  sailor,  "you  seem  to 
grow  an  inch  a  week,  sonny!  They'll  need  a  yardstick  to 
measure  you  for  a  uniform  when  you're  old  enough  to  go 
into  the  Navy." 


16  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"Mother  and  I  have  been  talking  that  over,"  declared 
Kipps,  now  quite  without  embarrassment.  "We've  decided 
to  stay  out  of  the  Navy.  We  aren't  pacifists,  though,  are 
we,  mother?" 

"No,  we're  not  pacifists,  Kipps,"  admitted  Anna,  and  it 
was  her  turn  to  be  embarrassed,  for  she  attempted  to 
change  the  subject.  "Sid,  don't  you  think  Nan's  grown 
too?" 

"Oh,  so  she  has!  She's  tall  enough  now  to  have  me  at 
her  feet." 

But  a  compliment  was  all  that  he  had  for  Nan.  Foot- 
ridge's  mind  was  evidently  upon  the  son  of  the  man  he  had 
known  and  admired  to  the  day  of  supreme  sacrifice. 

"Kipps,"  he  persisted,  "what's  wrong  with  the  Navy 
anyhow  ?" 

"It's  all  right,"  replied  Kipps,  his  freckles  mobile  with 
enthusiasm.  "It's  a  he-man  collection,  I'll  say!" 

"I  don't  know  where  he  picks  up  all  that  slang,"  inter 
jected  his  mother. 

"It  gets  in  through  the  pores,"  suggested  his  frivolous 
aunt. 

"But  we  civilians  have  got  a  lot  of  big  jobs  to  tackle," 
Kipps  was  going  right  on.  "I'm  not  sure  whether  I'll  be 
an  engineer  or  an  editor." 

"Susan,"  called  Anna  to  the  spectral  Irishwoman  in  the 
hall,  "you'd  better  take  him  upstairs  and  give  him  some 
dry  shoes." 

"We'll  have  to  get  together  some  time  and  talk  these 
matters  over,"  smiled  Footridge. 

"There's  a  lot  of  things  I'd  like  to  talk  over,"  declared 
Kipps. 

"Kipps,  Susan's  calling  you !"  came  Nan's  soft  warning. 

Therefore  the  conference  had  an  abrupt  end.  Subsequent 
noises  on  the  stairs  indicated  that  Susan  was  hastening  the 
delegates  by  the  force  of  her  small  but  wiry  right  arm. 

"He's  an  ace,"  declared  Footridge. 


A  TOWN  AND  A  NAME  17 

But  Anna  seemed  not  so  sure. 

"He's  getting  dreadfully  wild,"  she  said. 

"If  he  were  getting  dreadfully  tame  you'd  have  cause 
for  worry,"  replied  the  naval  officer. 

"It's  just  New  York  oozing  out  of  him,"  said  Zudie,  out 
done  to-day  with  her  native  city.  And  again  she  yawned, 
"Hi-ho!" 


in 


A  ring  at  the  doorbell  brought  animation  back  into  the 
young  girl's  hazel  eyes.  As  Aunt  Julia's  parlor  maid 
passed  through  the  hall  Anna  looked  concernedly  round, 
for  an  intuition  warned  her  of  who  it  might  be. 

"Mr.  Lonsdale,"  announced  the  maid. 

"Oh,  Bunn !"  cried  Zudie  as  a  slender  young  man,  punc 
tiliously  clad  for  the  afternoon,  appeared  at  the  door. 

He  was  vivacious  and  straw  colored.  When  he  opened 
his  mouth  to  laugh  he  showed  rodent  teeth,  and  his  china- 
blue  eyes  seemed  about  to  pop  from  his  head. 

"Hello,  hello !"  he  breezed,  shaking  hands  all  round. 
"Yes,  I  know  Footridge — how  do  you  do?  Can't  stay  a 
minute.  Put  on  your  hats,  children.  I'm  giving  a  ball." 

"A  ball!"  cried  Zudie,  clapping  her  hands. 

"A  regular  Monte  Carlo  riot.  Where?  Over  in  my 
apartment.  Now  don't  look  stricken,  Anna!  Nothing 
rough.  Respectable?  Moses,  how  respectable!  We've  got 
six  married  couples — count  'em — six — to  sit  on  the  lid. 
If  that  isn't  sufficient  I'll  bribe  the  night  watchman  to  act 
as  chaperon.  He's  a  German,  but  I  think  he's  perfectly 
safe." 

"Bunn,"  interposed  Anna,  "when  you  get  through  with 
all  that  will  you  please  come  down  to  earth  and  tell  us 
when  and  where  and  what?" 

"I've  named  'em  all,"  he  declared,  counting.  "Time — 
now.  Place — my  apartment.  Occasion — mixed  jubilee  in 


18  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

honor  of  Mrs.  Ely  and  Miss  Brand.  We're  running  four 
bridge  tables,  Lonnie  Wayle  is  shaking  the  drinks  and 
Mrs.  Van  Arnum  will  oblige  at  the  piano.  If  you  don't 
dance  you  gamble.  If  you  don't  gamble  you  dance.  If  you 
don't  do  either  you  stay  in  the  kitchenette  and  help  Lonnie. 
Who  says  me  nay?" 

"I  don't!"  volunteered  Zudie,  her  cheeks  bright  with 
excitement. 

"You  know  we're  not  going  out,"  Anna  began,  but  the 
engaging  Lonsdale  cut  in, 

"That's  the  point.  This  isn't  out.  It's  just  an  afternoon 
tea  arranged  especially  in  your  honor." 

"I'm  wild  to  dance,"  said  Zudie.    "Come  on,  let's  go !" 

"You'd  better  go  out  quietly  before  Aunt  Julia  comes 
to,"  said  Anna,  striving  to  lighten  her  tone. 

"Aw,  aren't  you  coming,  Anna?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  I'd  better.  Susan  Skelley's  going  out, 
and  I  ought  to  stay  with  the  children." 

"How  about  you,  Sid?"  asked  Zudie,  turning  to  the 
officer,  who  was  now  standing  apart  looking  out  of  the 
window. 

"I'm  a  rotten  dancer,"  he  admitted  with  the  hard  smile 
of  one  ignoring  defeat.  "And  I  don't  play  bridge.  But 
you  go  ahead,  Zudie.  I'll  stay  and  talk  with  Anna." 

"I  wouldn't  be  trotting  off  like  this,"  she  apologized. 
"But  you  can't  understand,  Sid,  how  I  want  to  dance." 

"I  understand  all  right,"  he  grinned. 

It  was  an  instant  after  Anna  had  cautioned  her  sister  to 
come  back  early  and  make  peace  with  Aunt  Julia  that  Sid 
Footridge  and  Anna  Bly  sat  beside  Zudie's  vacant  chair 
and  strove  to  talk  out  the  tangled  situation. 

"Anna,"  began  Footridge,  reddening  as  he  opened  his 
cigarette  case  and  closed  it  absent-mindedly,  "I  don't  know 
what  to  do  about  Zudie." 

"You'd  better  give  her  a  little  rope,"  said  Anna.  "My 
father  has  only  been  dead  six  months.  I  don't  like  her  to 


A  TOWN  AND  A  NAME  19 

be  going  out  to  parties  and  dancing.  But  do  you  know, 
I  sympathize  with  her  sometimes.  Father  especially  stipu 
lated  that  we  shouldn't  go  into  mourning,  and  that  makes 
some  difference,  I  suppose.  Just  seeing  black  round  you 
keeps  you  quieter,  don't  you  think?" 

"I  suppose  it  does,"  he  agreed. 

He  looked  at  her  with  earnest  eyes.  Was  he  thinking 
of  her  husband — the  friend  whose  life  had  been  blasted  out 
less  than  two  years  ago  at  the  discharge  of  one  of  his  own 
depth  bombs?  Was  he  thinking  of  the  tearless  courage  with 
which  she  had  accepted  her  loss,  silent,  unafraid,  and  of 
how  she  had  faced  the  world,  spiritualized  ? 

"I've  never  had  the  temptation,"  she  went  on,  "because, 
I  suppose,  I've  never  cared  a  lot  for  parties.  But  with 
Zudie  it^has  been  a  case  of  bubbles  corked  up  and  struggling 
to  escape.  Don't  take  it  so  seriously,  Sid.  Do  you  want 
me  to  encourage  you?" 

"A  drop  or  two  would  help." 

"Well,  I  think  she  cares  a  lot  more  for  you  than  she 
shows.  But  she  has  to  dance  it  out — and  then,  too,  it's 
New  York.  If  she'd  marry  you,  Sid,  and  go  away  I'd  keep 
a  candle  burning  forever.  You  don't  know  what — what  a 
peach  she  is  really.  It's  just  vitality  struggling  to  express 
itself." 

"Bless  her  heart,"  he  said,  "you  can't  blame  her  for  flying 
on  the  golden  side  of  life.  Things  have  come  so  easy  for 
her." 

"Sid" — Anna  paused  and  considered  him  before  she 
plunged  into  the  confidence,  "things  aren't  going  to  be  very 
easy  for  her  or  for  me — from  now  on." 

"Anna!"  A  new  look  of  concern  came  into  his  homely, 
weather-beaten  face.  "You  haven't  struck  a  snag!" 

"You  might  call  it  that.  It's  very  considerate  of  people 
to  say  that  we're  staying  with  Aunt  Julia  until  father's 
estate  has  been  settled.  But  that's  been  settled,  Sid.  Mr. 


20  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

Munson  has  been  very  kind  and  seen  that  every  cent  was 
paid  off  quietly." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say " 

Anna  nodded. 

"The  Tuxedo  house  was  sold  last  week  with  almost  every 
stick  of  furniture  in  it.  It  was  quietly  arranged  so  that  it 
wouldn't  get  in  the  papers  and  give  people  a  chance  to  say 
that  we're  stony  broke — which  we  are.  You  see,  father  kept 
his  affairs  pretty  much  to  himself — he'd  been  so  sick  and 
quiet  for  the  past  two  years.  We  went  right  on  as  we 
always  had  up  to  the  day  of  his  death.  I  didn't  know,  and 
Zudie  didn't  know,  that  we  were  living  on  borrowed  money. 
Father  had  been  retired  from  business  so  many  years  I 
think  he  lost  his  business  sense,  and  he'd  lived  so  much  in 
japan " 

Anna's  mind  strayed  a  little  and  she  lapsed  into  silence. 
What  had  Judge  Brand's  travels  in  Japan  to  do  with  his 
commercial  failure? 

"Does  Zudie  know  all  this?"  asked  Footridge  presently. 

"Yes.  She's  taking  it  in  her  own  way.  That  has  some 
thing  to  do  with  her  restlessness,  I  think.  She  realizes,  as 
I  do,  that  we  can't  stay  on  here.  Aunt  Julia  has  been  too 
kind." 

The  last  phrase  expressed  it  all.  Too  kind !  A  kindness 
that  rankled,  meddled,  insulted,  cloyed. 

"I  haven't  a  lot  to  offer,"  mumbled  Sid  Footridge.  "But 
if  she'd  only  be  satisfied  with  my  pay." 

"You're  a  dear  boy,"  declared  Anna,  patting  his  hand 
impulsively.  "I  think  she's  going  to  choose  you,  Sid.  But 
you've  got  to  be  awfully  patient  with  Zudie." 

"She's  worth  it,"  he  growled. 

"Yes,  she  really  is.  I  think  she  could  marry  any  of  a 
half  dozen  light  little  fellows  of  her  set,  but  I'm  proud  to 
say  she  doesn't  want  to.  And  I'd  starve,  Sid,  before  I'd  see 
her  make  such  a  concession." 


A  TOWN  AND  A  NAME  21 

Anna  stiffened  in  her  chair  and  forced  a  faint  smile  to 
her  lips. 

"I'm  putting  an  awfully  dreary  face  on  it,"  she  declared. 
"After  all,  it's  not  a  matter  of  bread  and  butter.  My  hus 
band" — there  was  always  a  little  catch  in  her  voice  at  the 
mention  of  that  beloved  ghost — "left  some  insurance,  and 
I  have  his  pension." 

"Alec  had  a  bit  of  property,  too,  didn't  he  ?"  asked  Foot- 
ridge,  speaking  familiarly  as  though  Lieutenant  Ely  were 
still  alive. 

"Yes,  there's  a  farm." 

"Where?" 

"Somewhere  in  California.  Isn't  Sacramento  the  state 
capital?"  At  his  confirming  nod  she  went  on.  "Well,  it's 
near  there.  It's  just  outside  a  town  named  Ely.  It  seems 
that  his  father  owned  all  that  district  in  1879,  but  he  sold 
out  piecemeal.  There's  a  sixty-acre  tract  there  planted  in 
prunes." 

"In  what?"  asked  Footridge. 

"Prunes,"  repeated  Anna,  without  humor.  "We've  been 
leasing  it  to  a  Japanese  farmer  and  getting  twenty-five  hun 
dred  a  year." 

"Of  course,"  he  calculated,  "with  that  and  the  other 
money  you  can  pull  through." 

"That's  just  what  I've  been  trying  to  figure  out.  But 
the  more  I  figure  the  worse  it  looks.  Two  women  and  two 
children  trying  to  keep  up  appearances  in  New  York  on 
less  than  four  thousand  a  year!  It  can't  be  done,  Sid.  It 
isn't  as  if  we  could  live  here  on  Aunt  Julia's  kindness;  it 
isn't  as  if  we  could  disappear  into  a  side  street.  People 
we've  known  all  our  lives — it  sounds  weak,  Sid,  but  I'm 
afraid  to  be  poor  in  New  York." 

Sid  Footridge  studied  her  before  he  asked,  "I  wonder 
how  you'd  live  away  from  New  York  ?" 

"I  really  don't  know.  Of  course  there's  that  farm  in 
California." 


22  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"Oh,  no !"  Footridge  gave  a  dry  chuckle. 

"Why  not?"  she  asked,  nettled  by  his  tone. 

"Japs,"  was  all  he  said. 

"Well,  what  difference  does  that  make?" 

Something  in  Anna's  earnest  eyes  must  have  warned 
Footridge  to  be  careful. 

"It  might  make  a  lot,"  he  answered  quietly. 

"I  don't  see  how.  Father  lived  among  the  Japanese  a 
great  many  years  of  his  life.  Kipps  was  born  when  I  was 
waiting  for  Alec's  squadron  to  touch  at  Nagasaki.  I  think 
the  best  friend  our  family  has  ever  had  is  Baron  Tazumi." 

"I  suppose  you  know  them  better  than  I  do,"  said  Foot 
ridge  with  a  tolerance  that  somehow  irritated  her. 

"Well,  what's  your  objection,  Sid?" 

"None  in  the  world.  All  I  want  is  to  see  you  settled 
down  in  a  place  where  you  and  Zudie  can  be  happy.  Of 
course,  it's  a  long  way  to  take  her,  but  I'm  as  likely  to  be 
in  California  as  in  Spain  or  China.  It  isn't  that " 

"Well,  what  is  it,  Sid?" 

The  lieutenant  commander  snapped  to  his  feet  and  cried 
with  a  conscience-stricken  air:  "By  George!  Here  it's 
four-twenty-one  and  I'm  to  report  aboard  ship  at  five.  It's 
all  right,  Anna.  I'll  trust  your  judgment  whatever  way  it 
flies." 


CHAPTER  II:    A  DECISION  IN  THE  NIGHT 


ZUDIE'S  prolonged  absence  didn't  make  that  evening 
easier  for  Anna.  About  six  o'clock  Aunt  Julia — who 
ignored  her  brother's  dying  wish  as  she  had  ignored  all  his 
wishes — emerged  from  her  state  of  coma  and  came  forth, 
a  righteous,  stout  lady  in  deep  mourning.  She  strode  into 
Anna's  room  and  found  her  stitching  a  ruffle  on  a  garment 
for  little  Nan.  Sewing  on  Sunday  was  an  infringement 
of  household  discipline,  but  Aunt  Julia  had  more  important 
misdemeanors  to  settle. 

"Where's  Judith?"  she  asked,  her  mouth  drawn  into  a 
pucker. 

Aunt  Julia  was  the  only  living  person  who  hadn't  for 
gotten  Zudie's  baptismal  name. 

"She  went  to  Mr.  Lonsdale's,"  replied  Anna.  Then 
realizing  how  that  would  sound  to  Aunt  Julia's  blameless 
ear  she  added  rapidly,  "Mrs.  Innes  and  Mrs.  Crockett  are 
giving  the  party — really." 

"Party!"  Aunt  Julia  sat  down  and  a  wicker  chair 
creaked  under  the  dead  weight.  "A  party — on  Sunday — 
out  of  a  house  of  mourning!" 

"Maybe  I  used  the  wrong  word,"  replied  Anna,  strug 
gling  with  her  temper.  "It  was  just  a  few  young  people." 

"Isn't  she  coming  home  to  supper?"  the  inquisitor  held 
her  to  the  mark. 

"I  don't  know." 

If  the  reply  was  short  it  was  because  Anna  Ely  could 
trust  herself  to  say  no  more. 

The  speed  with  which  Aunt  Julia  came  to  her  feet  did 

23 


24  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

credit  to  the  latent  energy  of  the  fat.  She  undulated  toward 
a  desk  telephone  on  the  other  side  of  the  room  and  wasted 
no  time  in  getting  Mr.  Lonsdale's  apartment. 

"Is  Miss  Brand  there?"  asked  her  carefully  measured 
tones.  "I  should  like  to  speak  to  her,  please."  A  thunder 
ous  pause.  "Is  that  you,  Judith?  I  hope  I  haven't  inter 
rupted  your  fun,  my  dear.  I  have  just  called  up  to  inquire 
if  you  were  coming  home  for  supper.  Thank  you.  So  good 
of  you  to  let  me  know." 

The  receiver  was  laid  back  on  its  hook  with  all  the  gen 
tleness  of  which  a  Christian  hand  is  capable. 

"Poor  Judith !"  sighed  Aunt  Julia.  "It's  a  sore  cross  for 
you  to  bear,  Anna,  darling,  with  all  the  troubles  that  have 
been  laid  on  your  shoulders.  It  isn't  as  though  dear  brother 
were  with  us.  Don't  you  think,  Anna,  that  you  might  use 
your  influence  to  remind  the  child  of  the  change — the 
changed  condition " 

It  must  have  been  something  in  Anna's  eyes  as  she 
glanced  up  from  her  sewing.  Aunt  Julia's  sirupy  mono 
logue  came  suddenly  to  an  end.  She  bit  her  lip  and  van 
ished  gloomily  through  the  doorway. 


Anna  had  thought  that  she  could  not  endure  another 
supper  alone  with  Aunt  Julia,  but  she  got  through  it  sur 
prisingly  well.  The  heavy  lady  in  black  had  evidently  made 
up  her  mind  to  avoid  the  unspeakable.  She  was  giving 
Zudie  the  silent  treatment.  In  all  her  remarks  she  seemed 
to  be  walking  clumsily  round  a  distasteful  subject.  She 
lectured  a  while  on  woman's  duty  to  the  race.  Things 
were  coming  to  a  dreadful  pass  when  young  people  must 
dance  on  Sunday  afternoon  in  order  to  enjoy  themselves. 
Once  or  twice  Anna  thought  of  screaming.  Instead  she 
went  on  cutting  cold  roast  beef. 

Finally  Aunt  Julia  swung  into  a  topic  far  more  pleasant. 


A  DECIS.  THE  NIGHT  25 

Baron  Tazumi  had  been  ^  thoughtful  in  asking  them  to 
sit  in  a  box  during  the  Cherry  Blossom  Society's  dinner 
next  Wednesday  night.  He  had  been  so  considerate — he 
was  always  that !  He  had  realized  that  in  the  light  of  their 
recent  bereavement  they  would  not  care  to  make  a  public 
appearance ;  but  he  had  arranged  it  so  that  they  could  hear 
without  being  seen,  and  the  baron  was  to  make  the  speech 
of  the  evening.  He  was  growing  so  celebrated  for  his 
oratory,  which  accomplished  so  much  for  the  ultimate 
brotherhood  of  man! 

In  spite  of  the  sweetish  praise  Anna  found  herself  agree 
ing  with  every  word.  Baron  Tazumi  represented  no  race  to 
Anna  Ely.  He  had  been  such  a  friend !  Even  though  this 
noble  Japanese  had  been  several  years  his  junior,  Judge 
Brand  had  gone  to  him  in  the  most  intimate  matters.  The 
Brands  first  met  him  in  Tokio  during  the  years  when  the 
judge  had  lived  there  in  our  Government's  service.  Tazumi 
was  an  officer  in  the  imperial  army  in  those  days,  and  his 
connections  had  been  useful  in  many  ways.  Anna  had 
never  forgotten  the  service  he  had  done  her  when  she  had 
been  alone  in  Nagasaki.  That  was  just  before  Kipps  was 
born. 

"Was  there  ever  such  a  wonderful  friend?"  Anna  heard 
her  aunt  asking  across  the  somber  table.  "My  dear,  he's 
been  like  an  elder  brother  to  you." 

"Indeed  he  has,"  Alec  Ely's  widow  found  herself  agree 
ing. 

"And  to  think  that  he  has  mastered  the  art  of  public 
speaking  in  our  own  tongue !"  the  sweet,  fat  tones  rambled 
on.  "Who  but  a  Japanese  could  accomplish  such  a  task? 
Aren't  they  a  wonderful  little  people?" 


111 

Anna  read  in  bed  until  after  eleven ;  then  she  put  out  the 
light  and  tried  to  sleep  on  her  problems.     But  she  twisted 


26  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

and  turned  between  the  sheets,  and  once  or  twice  she 
thought  of  getting  up  and  telephoning  to  Bunnie  Lonsdale's 
apartment.  Aunt  Julia  had  been  all  too  right  in  her  piously 
worded  criticism.  Something  had  to  be  done  about  Zudie. 
Something — but  what? 

"There's  no  use  going  on  like  this." 

She  repeated  it  over  and  over  like  a  chant,  hoping  to 
drive  herself  to  sleep  by  the  monotony  of  repetition.  The 
door  creaked  softly  and  a  step  was  heard  on  the  rug. 

"Ann !"  came  a  whisper.    "Ann,  turn  on  the  light !" 

Anna  pulled  the  chain  of  her  bedside  lamp  and  saw  her 
sister  standing  there,  still  wearing  her  hat  and  coat.  Her 
color  was  brilliant,  her  eyes  shining.  Anna  had  never  seen 
her  look  so  pretty. 

"Is  Aunt  Julia  very  sore?"  was  the  girl's  first  question. 

"Sh !"  cautioned  the  young  widow.  "You're  apt  to  wake 
her.  Yes,  I  think  she's  sore." 

"I  know  it  was  perfectly  horrid  of  me,"  said  Zudie,  seat 
ing  herself  on  the  edge  of  the  bed.  "But  I  simply  couldn't 
break  away.  It  was  a  wonderful  party,  but  I  couldn't 
stand  a  lot  more  like  it.  How  much  loose  change  have  we 
got  between  us,  Ann?" 

"Zudie!  You  didn't  lose  any  money,  did  you?"  asked 
the  elder  sister,  sitting  up  in  bed. 

"Twenty-seven  dollars,"  replied  Zudie. 

"Oh,  my  child!" 

It  was  a  strange  thing  for  Anna  to  do;  Anna,  who  had 
not  shed  a  tear  when  the  terse  military  report  of  her  hus 
band's  death  had  come  to  her.  But  now  she  buried  her 
head  in  the  pillows  and  gave  way  to  a  torrent.  She  came 
to  her  senses  to  find  Zudie  clinging  to  her,  supplicating  her 
with  a  thousand  endearing  terms. 

"Ann,  darling,  you've  got  to  forgive  me!  I'm  such  a 
fool!  Oh,  what  have  I  done  to  hurt  you  so?  Can't  you 
see  how  much  I  depend  on  you,  Ann?  You're  all  I've  got 
— and  I'm  getting  to  be  such  a  rotter!" 


A  DECISION  IN  THE  NIGHT  37 

Anna  Ely  ceased  to  weep,  and  held  the  girl  close  as  she 
would  have  held  a  crying  child. 

"Zudie,"  she  said,  "we're  both  of  us  spoiling  our  lives 
here.  It's  the  strain  of  trying  to  keep  up  in  a  place  where 
we  don't  belong,  that's  driving  us  to  all  sorts  of  silly 
things." 

"I  know  it,"  replied  Zudie.  "Sometimes  I  feel  that  I've 
got  to  get  out  to  keep  from  killing  Aunt  Julia  with  one  of 
her  awful  vases.  Can't  we  go  somewhere,  Ann?  Some 
where  a  long  way  off?" 

It  seemed  the  chosen  instant  for  Anna  Ely  to  speak  the 
thing  she  had  on  her  mind. 

"Zudie,"  she  said,  "would  you  go  over  to  my  dressing 
table  and  bring  me  those  two  letters  ?" 

The  open  envelopes  which  Zudie  fished  out  of  a  top 
drawer  were  as  different  in  appearance  as  peasant  from 
bourgeois.  The  one  was  mean  and  flimsy ;  it  was  addressed 
in  a  schoolboy  hand,  purple  ink  being  the  medium,  to  "Mrs. 
A.  Ely,  Esq."  The  other  bore  the  business  letterhead  of 
Helmholtz  &  Son,  Real  Estate  Brokers,  Sacramento,  Cali 
fornia. 

"They  came  by  the  late  mail  yesterday,"  explained  Anna. 
"I've  been  thinking  them  over.  You  see  this  one" — she 
brought  a  folded  sheet  from  the  more  respectable  of  the 
two  envelopes — "looks  like  a  bona-fide  offer.  It  might  set 
tle  something." 

She  opened  the  letter  before  Zudie's  eyes  and  read  it 
again  over  her  shoulder. 

"Dear  Madam: — In  re  your  holdings  at  Ely,  California, 
would  say  that  the  present  three-year  lease  now  held  by 
K.  Matsu  expires  on  March  fifteenth,  same  being  in  com 
pliance  with  the  law  which  requires  us  to  lease  to  a  new 
tenant. 

"Would  say  that  we  may  have  trouble  in  finding  a  new 
tenant  willing  to  pay  the  same  rental  as  the  outgoing  party. 


28  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

About  fifteen  acres  of  your  tract  is  set  out  in  old  trees,  past 
their  full  bearing. 

"How  would  you  consider  a  selling  proposition?  We 
have  been  approached  by  a  responsible  party  willing  to  pay 
seven  hundred  dollars  an  acre,  which  is  very  liberal  when 
you  consider  the  condition  in  which  the  outgoing  tenant 
has  left  the  property. 

"Would  strongly  advise  a  sale,  as  we  consider  this  a 
gilt-edged  proposition.  The  farmhouse,  which  has  never 
been  occupied  by  the  farmers,  is  in  bad  condition,  but  our 
customerSs  willing  to  take  all  the  property  as  is. 

"Kindly  notify  us  by  wire,  as  the  party  we  have  in  mind 
is  anxious  to  occupy  at  once. 

"Yours  truly, 

"CYPRIAN  HELMHOLTZ." 

The  sisters  looked  at  each  other  with  a  wild  surmise. 

"You  see,"  said  Anna,  "that's  forty-two  thousand  dol 
lars." 

"Invested  at  six  per  cent,"  replied  Zudie,  who  had  a  way 
of  coming  down  to  the  practical  in  the  hour  of  decision — 
"invested  at  six  per  cent — let  me  see.  That  would  mean 
two  thousand,  five  hundred  and  twenty  dollars — just  about 
what  you're  getting  now." 

"Yes,  but  there'd  be  no  worry.  Real  estate  is  never  safe. 
Suppose  there  should  be  a  tidal  wave  or  something  on  that 
river!" 

"How  do  you  know  Alec's  property  isn't  worth  more 
than  that?"  asked  the  suddenly  practical  sister. 

"It's  a  lot  of  money,"  replied  Anna,  her  thoughts  upon 
a  sum  that  looked  like  Golconda  just  then. 

"What's  that  servant-girl-looking  thing?"  asked  Zudie, 
picking  up  the  other  letter  which  lay  upon  the  bedclothes. 
This,  too,  was  interesting  in  the  suggestions  which  its  pain 
fully  rounded  "o's"  and  religiously  dotted  "i's"  conveyed 
to  the  reader. 


A  DECISION  IN  THE  NIGHT  29 

"HoN.  MRS.  MADAM, 

"Dearest  Sir:  Undoubtlessly  you  are  siprised  from  me 
because  my  name  cannot  be  aquinted  to  yours.  Yet  I  are 
here  pussuing  arricultural  work  nearside  to  your  neigh 
borly  propity  which  I  adore  because  of  its  goods  prunes  etc. 

"How  would  you  term  a  lease  with  me  for  my  three  yrs 
workmanship  on  farm?  I  have  been  growing  with  trees 
fifteen  yrs  in  state  of  Cal  and  can  raise  deliciously  in 
American  dirt. 

"Plese  state  term  which  would  bring  me  in  where  Mr. 
Matsu  went  away.  Would  rent  openly  from  you  or  go 
with  you  y2  on  basis.  Thanks  to  know  all  these  replies 
with  your  good  health. 

"Yours  truly, 

"MR.  J.  SHIMBA,'  ESQ." 


iv 

Mr.  Helmholtz's  elegantly  typed  letter  lay  in  Anna's  lap. 
Zudie  was  holding  the  flimsy  sheet  with  its  purple  scrawl. 

"I  think  I  prefer  Mr.  J.  Shimba,  Esquire,"  said  the  girl 
decisively.  "It's  straightforward,  clear,  and  to  the  point. 
He  wants  to  be  brought  in  where  Mr.  Matsu  went  away. 
It's  almost  childishly  honest." 

"Yes,"  replied  Anna,  but  her  look  was  tragic,  "we  would 
be  getting  just  what  we  did  before." 

"We  would  be  getting  two  or  three  times  as  much !"  cried 
Zudie,  her  voice  rising  to  a  hopeful  key,  which  threatened 
to  rouse  Aunt  Julia  from  her  holy  dreams. 

"Zudie,  what  do  you  mean?"  inquired  Anna  through  a 
strangling  embrace  which  her  sister  was  tightening  round 
her  neck. 

"I've  got  it  all  in  a  great  white  flash!"  persisted  the 
younger  sister.  "We'll  not  let  other  people  use  our  farm 
to  get  rich  on.  Can't  you  see?  Mr.  J.  Shimba,  Esquire, 


30  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

says  he  wants  to  lend  us  his  workmanship  'one-half  on 
basis.'  Done  into  English,  that  means  fifty-fifty.  The 
farms  round  Sacramento  are  the  richest  in  the  world — 
everybody  says  so.  We're  going  to  have  half  of  the  profit, 
Anna!" 

Anna  sat  back,  amazed  to  know  how  a  real  problem 
could  bring  hope  into  both  their  hearts. 

"How  would  we  look  on  a  farm?"  she  asked,  wavering 
on  the  brink  of  that  important  decision. 

"Splen-did!"  cried  Zudie.  "Lots  of  American  girls — the 
sort  we  know,  too — are  going  in  for  farming — making  a  big 
go  of  it.  Letty  Parrish  went  to  her  father's  ranch  in 
Wyoming  and  became  a  cowgirl.  She's  crazy  about  it. 
Don't  you  think  a  girl  who  can  play  tennis  all  day  and 
dance  all  night  can  stand  a  little  outdoor  exercise  ?" 

"It  would  be  wonderful  for  the  children,"  reflected  Anna. 
Indeed  Zudie's  words  brought  her  the  first  warming  ray 
she  had  felt  these  many  weeks. 

"It  would  be  the  making  of  them!"  declared  the  little 
enthusiast.  "They  wouldn't  have  to  wear  anything  but 
overalls,  and  they'd  be  in  the  sun  all  the  time.  They  say 
the  California  schools  are  excellent." 

Now  that  her  long-controlled  will  had  once  given  way, 
Anna  had  a  shameful  feeling  that  she  was  going  to  cry 
again. 

"Don't,  honey!"  begged  Zudie,  sinking  on  her  knees  by 
the  bed.  "We'll  fight  it  out  together.  It  will  be  like 
heaven  to  be  in  California  away  from  all  this  cold  and 
poverty  and  hard  luck.  Why,  with  sixty  acres  we're  rich ! 
And  they  say  the  Japanese  are  wonderful  farmers.  And 
think  of  the  things  we'll  avoid!  I  won't  have  Bunnie 
Lonsdale  and  his  silly  crowd  pulling  me  right  and  left. 
We  won't  have  any  servant  problems — except  Susan  Skel- 
ley,  and  she's  always  a  problem  wherever  we  are." 

"I  wonder  what  Baron  Tazumi  would  say  to  this?"  Anna 
broke  in,  her  mind  swerving  into  another  channel. 


A  DECISION  IN  THE  NIGHT  31 

"We'll  tackle  him  at  the  Cherry  Blossom  dinner/'  said 
Zudie.  "We're  all  going,  aren't  we?" 

"Oh,  yes.    Aunt  Julia  says " 

As  though  the  name  had  summoned  that  righteous  spirit, 
Aunt  Julia's  night-clad  figure  bulked  large  in  the  door. 

"Good  deeds  are  never  bora  at  midnight,"  she  announced 
piously. 

Which  was  more  than  enough  to  send  Zudie  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  HI:    BARON  TAZUMI 


SID  FOOTRIDGE  dined  at  Aunt  Julia's  table  on 
Wednesday  night,  and  afterward  sat  with  the  ladies  in 
their  discreetly  sheltered  box  at  the  Cherry  Blossom  So 
ciety's  dinner.  They  arrived  just  before  the  speechmaking 
began,  and  Anna's  restless  mind  was  divided  between  her 
anxiety  for  Sid's  and  Zudie's  happiness  and  her  admira 
tion  for  the  talented  Japanese  who  was  to  deliver  the  ad 
dress  of  the  evening. 

It  was  due  to  the  baron's  thoughtfulness,  they  felt,  that 
their  box  was  so  cleverly  screened  in  artificial  cherry  blos 
soms  that  they  could  see  without  being  seen.  The  banquet 
room  upon  which  they  looked  was  splendid  with  decora 
tions  which  successfully  symbolized  the  occasion.  Several 
important  Americans — capitalists,  politicians,  clergymen — 
were  on  the  eve  of  departure  for  Japan,  where  they  were 
to  spend  several  weeks  as  guests  of  the  Imperial  Govern 
ment. 

"How  well  the  Japanese  do  everything!"  cried  Aunt 
Julia,  looking  down  from  her  flowery  balcony. 

How  well  indeed !  From  floor  to  cornice  the  walls  were 
masked  in  boughs  of  pinkish  bloom  which  framed  tall  tem 
ple  paintings  of  Nippon's  mighty  gods.  Enormous  fish-skin 
lanterns,  yellow  as  harvest  moons  and  adorned  with  Chi 
nese  characters,  glowed  from  the  ceiling.  In  the  center  of 
every  table  was  a  little  Japanese  garden  with  crooked 
streams,  rocky  shores  and  midget  cherry  trees  on  the  banks. 
A  life-size  garden  with  four-foot  pines,  a  tortuous  gold-fish 

32 


BARON  TAZUMI  33 

pond,  arched  bridges,  stone  lanterns  and  woodland  images 
stood  centered  before  the  speakers'  table. 

"They're  irresistible!"  whispered  Aunt  Julia. 

"Aren't  they  ?"  said  Footridge. 

He,  too,  was  leaning  curiously  forward.  The  president 
had  risen  and  was  rapping  for  order.  At  the  long  table 
several  famous  men  were  recognizable — a  world  financier, 
a  retired  diplomat,  several  important  bankers,  a  clergy 
man  of  international  reputation.  Their  broad  shirt  fronts 
and  pinkish  faces  contrasted  sharply  with  the  sallow  com 
plexion,  domy  foreheads  and  thoughtful  features  of  the 
little  giants  of  Nippon. 

Sweeping  her  opera  glasses  along  this  distinguished  row, 
Anna  caught  sight  of  Baron  Tazumi,  three  to  the  left  of  the 
president's  chair.  She  regarded  him  with  the  critical  in 
terest  with  which  we  watch  our  friends  performing  in  pub 
lic.  The  speaker  was  droning  on  in  rather  a  dull  eulogy 
of  the  cherry  blossom — flower  of  the  samurai  and  sacred 
memorial  of  George  Washington's  hatchet. 

The  kindly,  handsome  face  of  Baron  Tazumi  recalled  to 
Anna  many  grateful  memories.  He  had  been  such  a  friend ! 
The  Brands  had  never  thought  of  him  as  a  man  beyond  the 
barrier  of  race  and  religion.  How  open-minded  he  had 
been!  How  he  had  sympathized  with  and  appreciated  her 
father's  aspirations !  What  a  delicate  chivalry  he  had 
shown  on  one  or  two  occasions  when  chivalry  was  most 
needed !  Zudie  had  been  a  schoolgirl  when  Anna's  first  baby- 
was  born.  Alec  had  been  at  sea  and  her  father  away  on  an 
expedition  at  Hokkaido.  Tazumi,  then  an  officer  in  the  im 
perial  army,  had  stood  apart,  unobtrusive  and  unseen,  and 
arranged  everything. 

He  had  brought  a  skillful  doctor  from  Tokio ;  he  had 
sent  the  women  of  his  mother's  household  to  attend  her; 
and  when  the  boy  was  born  and  Anna  could  smile  again 
and  look  round  her  she  had  found  by  her  bed  a  gift  of 
beautiful  significance.  It  was  a  straight  little  pine  tree  in 


34  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

a  porcelain  bowl,  and  on  the  body  of  the  bowl  there  was 
painted  in  simple,  lovely  lines  the  picture  of  a  rising  sun, 
just  peeping  above  the  ocean  edge.  iThe  pine  for  long  life, 
the  rising  sun  for  a  hope  newborn  f\  Anna's  second  child 
was  born  in  Baltimore  two  years  later.  She  had  had  good 
care  there,  and  many  friends,  but  Tazumi's  chivalrous 
thoughtfulness  had  been  felt  again.  Once  more  the  little 
pine  and  the  rising  sun  had  been  brought  to  the  hospital. 
It  had  been  carried  from  Washington  by  one  of  the  baron's 
servants. 


ii 


The  president  closed  his  remarks  and  gave  way  to  the 
toastmaster.  Anna  heard  something  of  what  this  able,  ner 
vous  gentleman  said.  It  was  eminently  fitting,  he  pointed 
out,  that  the  flower  of  American  civilization — with  a  nod 
toward  the  distinguished  gentlemen  about  to  visit  Japan — 
should  go  forth  to  Nippon  to  taste  the  delightful  hospitality 
of  that  island  empire ;/ especially  fitting  indeed  because  at 
no  time  in  the  history  of  the  two  nations  had  petty  intrigue 
and  selfish  journalistic  exploitation  threatened  so  much 
harm  to  the  two  peace-loving  peoples.  ^ 

Then  a  learned  Japanese  educator  tooK  the  floor.  He  had 
a  lean  and  thoughtful  face,  but  he  spoke  English  incoher 
ently,  with  innumerable  hisses  and  a  Japanese  tendency  to 
turn  every  "1"  into  an  "r."  Anna  thought  she  heard  the 
names  of  Commodore  Perry  and  of  William  Jennings 
Bryan  and  of  Theodore  Roosevelt. 

Her  mind  wandered  again.  What  was  meant  by  that 
reference  to  meddling  politicians  and  selfish  newspapers? 
What  could  be  gained  by  trouble  with  Japan  ?  Her  father 
had  loved  and  admired  the  little  people ;  had  always  spoken 
of  their  pitiful  hunger  for  land — sixty  millions  of  people 
farming  rocky  and  mountainous  islands  with  an  arable  area 
far  smaller  than  that  of  California !  Wasn't  there  room  on 


BARON  TAZUMI  35 

this  green  earth  for  all  its  patient,  well-deserving  tribes? 

She  emerged  from  her  reverie  to  see  Baron  Tazumi  com 
ing  to  his  feet,  a  figure  of  a  very  noble  gentleman.  His 
skin  was  paler,  his  eyes  rounder  than  the  average  of  his 
race.  With  his  tightly  twisted  little  mustache  he  appeared 
more  like  a  Frenchman  than  an  Oriental.  On  a  ribbon 
below  his  lawn  tie  hung  suspended  the  Order  of  the  Rising 
Sun. 

Mrs.  Stannard  and  her  nieces  brought  their  hands  to 
gether,  the  warmth  of  their  hearts  lending  energy  to  their 
applause.  Who  could  hold  a  prejudice  against  such  a  man? 
Anna's  subconscious  mind  was  asking  that  question  as  the 
baron  acknowledged  the  applause  with  a  dignified  smile, 
and  his  shining  eyes,  which  seemed  to  see  everything, 
glanced  swiftly  up  toward  the  box  where  Mrs.  Stannard's 
party  was  sitting. 

"My  friends  of  the  Cherry  Blossom/'  he  began  in  his 
careful  Oxford  English,  "upon  the  day  when  Commodore 
Perry  sailed  into  our  harbor,  as  romantic  a  voyager  as 
Marco  Polo  into  the  enchanted  realms  of  the  Grand  Khan, 
he  brought  to  Japan  at  once  a  great  treasure  and  a  great 
responsibility.  The  eyes  of  Nippon  were  opened  wide  as 
the  sun  upon  her  flag.  For  twenty-five  hundred  years  we 
had  built  our  civilization,  stone  upon  stone,  mound  upon 
mound.  Under  the  beneficence  of  our  wise  and  mighty 
rulers  we  had  perfected  our  little  empire  until  no  humble 
street  was  without  its  beauty  spot,  no  ell  of  ground  without 
its  sacred  memory.  Self-contained,  self-supporting — self- 
satisfied,  I  will  admit — we  had  reared,  all  unknown  to  the 
other  world,  a  race  of  artists,  poets,  statesmen  and  soldiers. 
Long  before  the  day  of  Charlemagne  we  had  had  our 
Renaissance ;  before  a  Norman  duke  had  carried  the  sword 
of  culture  into  savage  Britain  we  had  borrowed  the  crafts 
manship  of  China  and  India's  religious  inspiration. 

"And  yet  in  the  age  of  steam  and  electricity  Nippon  lay 
a-dreaming,  old  as  her  hills  and  young  as  the  new-sprouted 


36  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

rice.  What  had  she  but  the  honor  of  her  chivalry,  the  sanc 
tity  of  her  shrines?  Then  Perry  knocked  at  the  door  of 
Japan — or  it  was  like  the  clangor  of  some  brazen  gong  out 
side  a  temple  torn. 

"  'Awake,  daughter  of  Amaterasu !  Seed  of  Yamato, 
germinate  anew !  Why  do  you  dream  forever  among  your 
ancient  groves,  forgetful  of  your  share  in  mankind's  greater 
work?  A  new  sun  is  risen,  and  with  it  a  new  day.  Prog 
ress  calls  you  into  its  brotherhood  to  make  you  one  with 
all  mankind.  America,  ever-generous  giver,  has  come  with 
the  gift  of  all  the  science  you  have  neglected.  But  with 
that  gift  is  a  heavy  responsibility.  You  must  learn  that 
you  may  teach.  China,  Korea,  the  stately  lands  of  India 
lie  sodden  and  in  darkness.  Daughter  of  Nippon,  to  you 
I  bring  the  golden  key.  Will  you  accept  it  and  go  forth 
with  us  into  the  world  ?'  " 

The  speaker  paused,  and  there  lay  over  the  large  room 
that  crystal-clear  silence  which  the  orator  values  more 
highly  than  applause. 

"My  friends,  you  see  Japan  to-day.  We  make  no  supe 
rior  claims,  for  in  our  hearts  we  are  very  humble.  But  I 
ask  you  to-night,  my  brothers  and  sisters  of  the  great  re 
public,  have  we  done  well  or  ill  ?" 

"Well !  Well !"  echoed  the  cry  from  hundreds  of  throats 
as  the  golden  lanterns  above  seemed  to  sway  with  the  storm 
of  applause. 

"No  people,"  went  on  the  speaker  as  soon  as  silence  was 
restored,  "can  leap  in  a  generation  from  the  age  of  Charle 
magne  to  the  age  of  Roosevelt  without  committing  its 
blunders.  Yet  no  one  can  say  that  Japan  has  not  tried  with 
all  the  strength  of  a  stout  heart.  And  America  has  been 
always  with  us ;  always  the  wise  and  patient  teacher,  shield 
ing  us  from  our  enemies  often;  and  more  often  from  our 
worst  enemy,  which  has  sometimes  been  ourselves.  Thanks 
to  your  great  republic,  Japan  has  learned  to  stand  upon  her 


BARON  TAZUMI  37 

feet  and  to  join  America  in  her  benevolent  guardianship  of 
the  Pacific. 

"And  when  the  world  was  shattered  by  the  earthquake  of 
war,  Japan,  grown  into  a  constitutional  monarchy  like  Eng 
land,  never  hesitated  to  join  forces  against  the  German 
spoiler.  Almost  before  the  Western  front  was  ablaze  we 
had  advanced  on  Kiao-chau  and  pulled  the  Prussian  spear 
head  from  the  side  of  China.  In  the  cause  of  humanity 
we  unsheathed  the  sword  of  the  samurai  that  the  world 
should  be  freed  forever  of  militarism.  For  we  too  had  felt 
the  canker  of  Prussian  intrigue  and  propaganda. 

"Now  it  is  over.  Germany  has  not  forgiven  Japan — 
and  why  should  she  ?  All  during  the  war  her  secret  agents 
were  at  work  against  us  in  the  United  States,  in  Canada, 
in  England.  Disloyal  American  newspapers  have  seized 
upon  that  siren  song,  and  to-day  you  hear  it  harped  in  many 
sharps  and  flats  the  length  of  the  Pacific  Coast.  A  handful 
of  our  humble  toilers,  working  peacefully  in  cooperation 
with  California  farmers,  are  characterized  as  a  menace.  To 
a  few  political  agitators — fortunately  few  in  this  free  land 
• — any  poor  Japanese  cobbler,  blissfully  unaware  of  what 
it  all  means,  becomes  a  yellow  peril."  [Laughter.] 

"Now  political  demagoguery  and  yellow  journalism  are 
not  peculiar  to  America  or  to  any  other  nation.  The  press 
in  Japan  is  free  also,  and  there  is  much  loose  talking  on 
both  sides  of  the  water.  But  these,  my  friends,  are  but 
little  clouds  of  dust.  The  heart  of  humanity  beats  on, 
human  blood  runs  the  same  under  all  skins.  Our  Japanese 
pride  may  be  wounded  sometimes,  but  we  have  two  saving 
graces — a  sense  of  honor  and  a  sense  of  humor.  We  have 
passed  out  of  the  age  of  superstition.  We  are  no  longer 
afraid  of  goblins.  And  we  know  that  the  destinies  of 
America  and  Japan  are  too  closely  welded,  our  aims  and 
ideals  too  nearly  identical,  for  our  people  to  be  butchered 
to  make  a  Sunday  supplement." 


38  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

iii 

Glancing  for  an  instant  through  the  brilliant  cavern  of 
a  room,  Anna  knew  that  she  would  never  forget  the  picture. 
Gentlemen  in  spotless  evening  dress,  ladies  with  naked 
shoulders  and  flashing  jewels,  over  all  the  big  fish-skin  lan 
terns  and  the  bowers  of  pinkish  blossoms.  The  two  civili 
zations,  Western  and  Eastern,  were  smoothly  blended 
together,  speaking  the  same  language,  exchanging  high 
thoughts  in  perfect  understanding.  The  baron  was  speak 
ing  on  international  affairs — the  open  door  in  China,  Jap 
an's  part  in  carrying  the  torch  of  civilization  into  Mongolia, 
trade  relations  in  key  ports.  These  phrases  meant  little  to 
her,  save  that  the  man  who  spoke  them  was  strong  and  just 
and  that  his  way  was  a  good  way.  He  had  a  plan  for  re 
ducing  armies  and  navies,  for  removing  the  curse  of  mili 
tarism  forever  from  the  world;  he  had  a  plan  for  a  better 
exchange  of  ideas  between  the  two  great  Powers  of  the 
Pacific. 

The  tables  rumbled,  the  cherry  blossoms  shook,  the  lan 
terns  swayed  as  the  gifted  gentleman  resumed  his  seat. 
Aunt  Julia  split  her  glove  and  Anna  clapped  until  her  palms 
hurt.  Only  Footridge  remained  passive.  When  she  turned 
toward  his  chair  she  found  him  sprawling  back,  his  hands 
in  his  pockets. 

"Wasn't  it  lovely!"  beamed  Aunt  Julia,  her  large  face 
flushed  with  excitement. 

"Yes,  yes!  Wasn't  it!"  agreed  Footridge,  and  his  sar 
castic  tone  brought  a  glare  from  Zudie  which  caused  Anna's 
heart  to  sink  again. 

"We  simply  must  talk  to  him!"  declared  Aunt  Julia  as 
soon  as  the  dinner  was  over  and  the  eloquent  little  man 
was  surrounded  by  a  ring  of  congratulatory  hands. 

"I'll  remind  him  that  we're  here,"  volunteered  Zudie. 

"Let  me!"  broke  in  Footridge. 

As  a  result  the  two  of  them  disappeared  into  the  mezza- 


BARON  TAZUMI  89 

nine.  But  Baron  Tazumi  must  have  sensed  their  wish,  for 
they  were  scarcely  gone  before  his  trim  little  figure  stood 
between  the  curtains  of  the  box. 

"Mrs.  Stannard,  how  do  you  do?"  he  began,  raising  her 
hand  almost  to  his  lips.  "It  was  so  gracious  of  you  to 
come.  I  hope  you  didn't  find  me  too — what  do  you  say  so 
well  ? — too  long-winded !" 

"You  were  superb !"  avowed  the  large  lady.  "I  could  sit 
for  years  and  listen  to  you !" 

"Would  that  I  were  immortal!"  he  smiled,  twinkling  to 
ward  Anna.  "What  greater  pleasure  than  to  spend  years 
being  enjoyed  by  you!" 

Bowing  his  small,  well-formed  body  over  Anna's  hand, 
he  added  deprecatingly :  "I  hope  your  distinguished  aunt 
does  not  underrate  my  figure  of  speech.  And  how  have  you 
been?" 

"Oh,  very  well,"  lied  Anna.  "I  couldn't  feel  anything 
but  inspired  after  hearing  the  fine  things  you've  said." 

"I  was  speaking  directly  to  your  box,  hoping  all  the  time 
that  you  were  here  to  listen,"  he  assured  her,  and  there  was 
a  charming  simplicity  in  the  way  he  said  it. 

Through  the  curtains  a  group  of  middle-aged  people 
could  be  seen  waiting  to  greet  the  lion  of  the  evening. 

"These  are  our  distinguished  tourists  to  Japan,"  he  in 
formed  the  ladies.  "Couldn't  I  persuade  you  to  meet  them 
— just  for  a  word?" 

"Oh,  I  know  Mr.  Kohl  and  Doctor  Greet,"  declared  Aunt 
Julia,  proud  of  an  acquaintance  with  every  New  Yorker 
worth  remembering.  "Senator  Jascomb  I  have  metr" 

She  said  nothing  about  her  duties  toward  a  house  of 
mourning  as  the  prospective  guests  of  the  Mikado  were 
ushered  into  her  presence. 

Ignatius  Kohl,  the  financier,  the  Reverend  Doctor  Greet, 
the  pulpit  orator,  and  Senator  Jascomb  formed  an  agree 
able  group  round  the  ladies.  Ignatius  Kohl,  a  beetle- 
browed,  dark  man,  had  less  to  say  than  the  others.  His 


40  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

profession  had  taught  him  discretion.  Senator  Jascomb, 
too,  maintained  a  diplomatic  aloofness.  It  was  the  popu 
lar  pulpit  orator  who  spoke  most  feelingly. 

"I  have  never  visited  Japan,"  his  orotund  voice  rolled 
forth,  "though  the  duty  of  my  church  lies  there.  To  see  is 
to  know,  Mrs.  Stannard.  It  will  be  my  privilege  to  view 
that  flowery  land  with  unprejudiced  eyes  and  bring  back  its 
message  to  America." 

Aunt  Julia  sat  entranced  by  that  continuous  flow  of 
rhetoric.  Anna  moved  restlessly  toward  the  mezzanine. 
Her  mind  was  on  Zudie  and  Sid.  She  liked  the  manner  of 
their  disappearance,  and  hoped  again  for  their  happiness. 
As  she  stood  outside  the  curtain,  her  eyes  strained  across 
the  vacant  carpet,  she  was  aware  of  Tazumi  at  her  side. 

"I've  been  thinking  of  you  all  day,"  he  began  in  his 
pleasant  voice — a  characteristically  Japanese  voice,  which 
seemed  to  carry  a  high  overtone  of  politeness  against  a  vir 
ile  bass. 

"I'm  glad  of  that,"  admitted  Anna.  "It's  been  so  long 
since  we've  seen  you." 

"I've  become  a  great  gadabout,"  he  smiled.  "See  Amer 
ica  first — that's  the  motto,  isn't  it?" 

"Baron,"  said  Anna  on  an  impulse,  "Zudie  and  I  have 
decided  to  give  up  New  York  and  go  to  California." 

"Splendid!"  he  said.  "Nothing  is  so  delightful  as.  Cali 
fornia." 

"We're  not  going  for  pleasure.  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you 
about  it." 

"What  are  your  plans,  if  I  might  ask?" 

"We're  thinking  of  living  on  my  husband's  farm.  It's 
near  Sacramento.  That's  the  state  capital,  isn't  it  ?" 

Tazumi  smiled. 

"May  I  call  to-morrow  afternoon  ?"  he  asked  a  little  has 
tily,  because  the  guests  of  Japan  were  about  to  leave  the 
box. 


BARON  TAZUMI  41 

iv 

When  Sid  Footridge  brought  Zudie  back  to  her  aunt  one 
look  at  his  face  told  Anna  that  Zudie  had  not  been  kind. 

"Good  night,  Mrs.  Stannard,"  said  Footridge  punctili 
ously,  after  he  had  escorted  them  to  their  car.  "It's  been 
such  a  pleasure." 

There  was  no  pleasure  in  his  honest  eyes. 

"Do  let  us  take  you  as  far  as  your  club!"  urged  Mrs. 
Stannard. 

"Thanks  awfully."  Sid  Footridge  stood  more  irreso 
lutely  than  a  prospective  commander  in  the  Navy  should 
ever  do.  "Awfully  good  of  you — fact  is,  there  are  a  couple 
of  men  Fve  got  to  talk  to  right  here  in  the  hotel.  Good 
night.  It's  been  a  great  pleasure." 

"I  hope  he  isn't  gambling,"  was  Aunt  Julia's  way  of  dis 
missing  Footridge's  peculiar  behavior. 

All  the  way  home  she  entertained  her  nieces  with  Biblical 
quotations  from  the  lips  of  the  Reverend  Doctor  Greet. 

It  was  not  until  the  young  women  were  locked  in  their 
adjoining  rooms  that  Anna  dared  ask,  "Zudie,  what  have 
you  been  doing  to  Sid  Footridge  ?" 

"I'll  not  stand  him  any  more!"  declared  the  impetuous 
sister.  "Do  you  know  what  he  called  the  Cherry  Blossom 
dinner?  'A  press-agent  show  for  a  lot  of  hand-picked 
tourists!'" 

"But,  Zudie,"  implored  Anna  hopelessly,  "what  if  he  did  ? 
There's  nothing  personal  about  that.  You  can't  let  a  differ 
ence  of  opinion  come  between  you." 

"He  makes  it  a  point  to  disagree  with  everything  I 
think,"  Zudie  said  in  the  quiet  tones  of  anger.  "It  doesn't 
matter  what  side  I'm  on.  And  I'm  through  with  Sid  Foot 
ridge!  Through!" 

She  banged  the  door  as  she  went  into  her  room. 


CHAPTER  IV:    HENRY  JOHNSON 


BARON  TAZUMI  had  elected  Thursday  for  his  call 
upon  Anna.  Thursday  afternoon  shortly  after  lunch 
eon  Anna  heard  Susan  Skelley's  sour  voice  holding  its  own 
in  public  debate  at  the  street  entrance.  Susan's  interfer 
ence  with  the  ordering  of  her  aunt's  household  was  a  con 
tinual  irritation.  But  a  faithful  friend  and  servant  of  many 
years'  standing  is  difficult  of  reproof,  and  the  wispy  Irish 
woman  who  had  been  young  and  marriageable  when  she 
entered  Judge  Brand's  establishment,  there  to  pucker  into 
spinsterhood,  was  subject  to  little  discipline  from  the  young 
women  she  had  waited  upon  and  loved  since  their  baby 
hood. 

"What  d'ye  think  ye  are,  the  king  o'  China,  to  come 
ringin'  at  the  front  door?"  her  rasping  voice  was  going  on, 
directed  toward  an  invisible  intruder.  "Where  d'ye  learn 
yer  manners  from?" 

"From  quite  a  number  of  sources,  madam/'  an  educated 
accent  was  making  reply.  "If  you  think  it  necessary  for 
me  to  show  a  college  diploma  I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to 
disappoint  you." 

Something  in  the  lecturing  voice  outside  reminded  Anna 
of  Baron  Tazumi  and  filled  her  with  apprehensions. 

"Susan!"  she  called,  and  when  Susan's  bleak  face  ap 
peared,  "What's  the  matter?" 

"There  do  be  wan  o'  thim  Eyetalian  Chinees  outside, 
Mrs.  Ely." 

"What  does  he  want?" 

42 


HENRY  JOHNSON  43 

"Ef  he  knows  himself,  he  won't  tell.  He's  here  for  no 
good,  that's  sure,  an*  there's  his  car-r-rd." 

Susan,  who  was  helpless  without  her  spectacles,  handed 
over  a  business  card  legibly  printed,  "Zelwitz  Window 
Cleaning  Co." 

"He's  the  window  cleaner/'  said  Anna.  "Send  him  to 
the  service  entrance." 

That  should  have  dismissed  the  matter,  but  a  little  later, 
when  the  talkative  stranger  made  his  appearance  from  the 
rear,  he  proved  to  be  sufficiently  odd  to  justify  a  second 
look  and  then  a  third.  He  was  quite  different  from  any 
thing  she  had  seen  in  New  York's  parade  of  undesirable 
aliens.  In  costume  he  recalled  a  figure  out  of  La  Boheme, 
but  the  greasy  Windsor  tie  and  the  suit  that  flapped  loosely 
over  his  tall,  bony  form  somehow  suggested  the  Bowery. 
The  face  under  a  thatch  of  long  wiry  black  hair  was  gro 
tesque  as  it  was  pathetic.  It  was  as  though  two  incomplete 
faces  had  been  joined  rather  clumsily  and  made  to  serve  as 
one. 

No  wonder  Susan  Skelley  had  classified  him  as  an  Eye- 
talian  Chinee!  His  long,  flat-lidded  eyes  were  a  brilliant 
gray,  and  their  grayness  contrasted  with  the  brownish  yel 
low  of  his  skin.  His  nose  was  bulbous  and  looked  as 
though  it  had  been  stuck  on  between  his  wide  cheek  bones 
as  an  afterthought  in  a  bad  job  of  assembling  left-over 
features.  To  his  long  chin  there  clung  a  grayish,  mossy 
growth  of  beard. 

"You  have  come  about  the  windows?"  asked  Anna,  now 
remembering  that  Aunt  Julia  had  left  most  definite  instruc 
tions. 

"Oh,  yes — about  the  windows!"  He  said  this  absent- 
mindedly. 

.  "Come  upstairs,  please,  and  I'll  show  you  where  to  be 
gin." 

As  she  guided  him  up  to  the  second  floor  Anna  had  the 
feeling  of  one  conducting  a  harmless  lunatic  and  lacking 


44  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

faith  in  his  harmlessness.  The  man  followed  obediently 
enough  with  his  bucket  and  rags. 

"You'll  begin  here,"  she  told  him,  indicating  Aunt  Julia's 
sewing  room.  "And  when  this  is  done  Susan  will  tell  you 
where  to  go  next." 

The  queer  person  stalked  over  to  a  window  and  ran  his 
sensitive,  dirty  fingers  across  the  pane.  He  gazed  at  the 
fresh  sample  thus  collected,  and  every  line  in  his  tall,  skinny 
figure  seemed  to  express  intellectual  detachment. 

"Fate  arranges  things  quite  well  at  times,  if  you  let  her 
alone,"  he  began,  as  though  continuing  a  lecture.  "What 
more  pleasant,  after  all,  than  window  washing?  To  the 
philosopher  it  symbolizes  the  act  of  preparing  the  inner  soul 
to  look  out  and  behold.  Of  course  in  weather  like  this  the 
art  has  its  perils,  but  what  art  has  not?  One  is  apt  to 
catch  influenza,  for  instance.  Nothing  is  more  unsanitary 
than  sitting  on  a  window  ledge  with  one's  legs  in  Florida 
and  one's  lungs  in  Alaska.  And  yet  there  is  a  certain  uni 
versality  about  the  feeling,  don't  you  think?" 

Anna  stood  irresolute,  not  sure  whether  to  laugh  or  call 
the  police. 

"From  your  window,  too,  one  can  view  the  faults  of 
American  society — your  very  pompous  streets  and  your 
rather  ugly  back  yards.  You  have  never  learned  to  make 
the  back  yard  an  object  of  beauty,  as  they  do  in  Japan." 

"Then  you're  a  Japanese?"  asked  Anna  in  spite  of  her 
self. 

The  man  roused  curiosity,  whatever  else  could  be  said 
of  him. 

He  stooped  and  dipped  a  rag  gingerly  in  the  pail,  wrung 
it  out  and  caressed  it  between  his  palms  before  replying. 

"I  am  a  chimera,"  he  said. 

The  look  he  gave  her  was  so  sardonic  and  so  sad  that 
she  was  fain  to  overlook  his  eccentric  impertinence  and 
probe  the  mystery  which  he  seemed  to  be  holding  buttoned 
under  his  shiny  coat.  But  he  had  set  himself  to  his  task 


HENRY  JOHNSON  45 

of  polishing  the  window.    He  went  at  it  minutely,  with  the 
air  of  an  art  collector  restoring  a  damaged  Rubens. 

He  continued  to  work  on  the  second  floor  during  the 
early  part  of  the  afternoon.  Susan  Skelley,  almost  cheer 
ful  in  the  role  of  amateur  sleuth,  kept  her  gimlet  gaze  upon 
him  as  he  passed  from  room  to  room.  Once  or  twice  he 
could  be  heard  venturing  forth  into  new  essays;  then 
Susan's  bitter  tone  would  cut  in  like  steel  and  he  would  be 
silenced. 


The  chimera,  bucket  and  rags  in  hand,  was  descending 
the  stairs  just  in  time  to  spoil  the  picture  when  Baron  Ta- 
zumi  called.  Even  the  nobleman's  politeness  was  insuffi 
cient  to  prevent  his  staring  a  second  time  at  the  seedy 
philosopher. 

"Did  you  ever  see  such  a  curious  person?"  asked  Anna 
as  soon  as  Tazumi  had  been  seated. 

"They  are  unusual  in  New  York,"  he  admitted,  with  the 
air  of  one  classifying  a  stray  tropic  bird. 

"They?" 

"Eurasians,  you  understand.  Undoubtedly  you  remem 
ber  seeing  them  in  Japan — the  fruits  of  intermarriage. 
Very  good  fruits  often,  too.  Of  course,  when  inferiors  of 
any  race  come  together  the  results  can't  be  superior,  can 
they?" 

In  any  other  man  this  explanation  might  have  seemed 
protesting  too  much.  But  Tazumi  had  a  delightful  way  of 
scattering  information,  as  a  page  might  scatter  flowers  in 
the  destined  path  of  a  queen. 

"The  specimen  you  have  here,"  he  added  after  a  discreet 
glance  into  the  next  room,  "is  quite  unique.  Harmless? 
Let  us  hope  so.  He  dabbles  in  radicalism.  Who  knows 
what  trouble  he  might  make  for  your  country  and  mine? 
But  I  do  not  think  he  can  accomplish  much.  Such  men 
stand  in  their  own  light." 


46  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"He's  a  little  mad,  I  think,"  said  Anna.  "Or  maybe  we 
have  Socrates  washing  our  windows.  Anyhow,  he's  pa 
thetic.  He  seems  so — what  shall  I  say? — so  far  from 
home." 

"Ah,  my  dear  Anna-san" — Tazumi  had  addressed  her  in 
the  Japanese  manner  since  he  first  knew  her  as  a  little  girl — 
"Anna-san,  the  Japanese  are  never  far  away  from  home." 

He  gave  her  no  chance  for  further  questioning,  but 
chatted  amiably  on  a  number  of  harmless  topics.  In  a  half 
hour  of  pleasant  dialogue  there  was  no  hint  of  last  night's 
confidence  until  he  plunged  suddenly  into  the  subject. 

"Anna-san,  I  hope  you  will  not  resent  this  brotherly  ques 
tion.  But  what  has  turned  your  mind  toward  farming  in 
California?" 

She  told  him  a  little  ofi  her  unsettled  affairs,  and  of  her 
conference  with  Zudie,  which  had  set  their  faces  toward  the 
ranch  on  a  far-away  river. 

Tazumi  smiled  again. 

"You  haven't  learned  your  C  lifornia,"  he  said  teasingly. 
"And  I  have  brought  you  a  textbook.  We  must  locate  that 
farm,  you  know." 

His  textbook  proved  to  be  a  folding  map  of  California, 
which  he  brought  from  his  pocket  and  spread  before  her. 

"We  can't  plunge  into  the  unknown,  can  we?"  he  in 
sisted,  as  his  delicate  forefinger  found  Sacramento  and 
traced  out  the  tortuous  course  of  a  little  river  flowing  to 
ward  a  great  one.  "Is  it  near  any  small  town?" 

"The  town's  named  after  me,"  she  said  with  a  certain 
pride. 

"Ely?  Oh,  yes!  I've  heard  of  the  little  place.  It  was 
christened  for  your — your  husband's  family,  was  it  not?" 

"Alec's  father  owned  most  of  that  region  once." 

"So  he  did— once." 

Tazumi  never  looked  up.  His  forefinger  was  passing 
cautiously  along  to  locate  the  trifling  spot  marked  with  the 
name  of  a  forgotten  pioneer. 


HENRY  JOHNSON  47 

"And  here  you  are !"  he  chuckled.  "Now  tell  me,  Anna- 
san,  is  there  a  comfortable  house  on  the  premises  ?" 

"There's  a  very  nice  little  house,"  she  explained.  "It's 
been  vacant  for  six  years.  The  last  white  family  that 
farmed  the  place  lived  there,  but  Alec  arranged  that  the 
real-estate  man  should  look  out  for  it.  Alec  always  had  an 
idea  that  we  might  move  out  there,  you  know." 

"Yes,"  replied  Tazumi  in  the  respectful  tone  he  always 
used  when  Alec  was  mentioned.  "And  now,  Anna-san,  will 
you  listen  to  advice  from  an  old  friend?" 

"I've  so  wanted  you  to  advise  me,  baron !"  she  cried,  truly 
delighted. 

"Don't  try  to  farm  that  place  yourself.  Either  lease  it 
again  or — sell  it." 

"Why  shouldn't  Zudie  and  I  work  it  ourselves?"  she  ob 
jected.  "We're  strong,  and  there  isn't  a  thing  for  us  to  do 
in  the  world  but  make  the  place  pay." 

"That's  what  troubles  me,"  he  said.  "Can  you  make  it 
pay?"  B. 

"We're  working  it  on  shares  with  a  Japanese  farmer," 
she  informed  him.  "The  Japanese  have  been  able  to  pay 
us  twenty-five  hundred  a  year  for  it,  so  there's  no  reason 
why  we  shouldn't  do  twice  as  well  at  least." 

"Hm!"  He  looked  serious.  "The  Japanese  and  the 
whites,  you  understand,  are  different  people.  Much  as  I 
admire  American  ladies,  I  must  admit — shall  I  say  it? — 
that  they  are  better  in  the  drawing-room.  And,  to  be  fair, 
no  Japanese  lady  of  your  station  would  go  into  the  fields  to 
work.  To  do  your  share  on  the  farm  you  must  compete 
with  Japanese  peasant  women.  That  will  mean  work  from 
daylight  to  dusk,  digging  ditches,  mending  fences,  splitting 
wood.  I  should  hate  to  think  of  your  growing  bent  in  a 
year,  of  your  pretty  hands  becoming  red  and  swollen." 

"I  can  always  afford  to  hire  some  one  for  the  heavy 
work,"  she  pointed  out. 

He  laughed. 


48  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"How  like  an  American  lady!"  Then  coming  rapidly 
back  to  the  seriousness  of  his  topic.  "My  advice  to  you, 
Anna-san,  is  to  sell." 

"I've  had  one  offer,"  she  admitted.  "But  I  think  I  can 
do  better  by  farming  the  land." 

"What  was  the  offer?"  he  asked,  eying  her  keenly. 

"Seven  hundred  dollars  an  acre/7 

"Hm !  I  think  I  know  of  some  American  gentleman  who 
could  do  better  by  you  than  that.  Who  is  your  agent?" 

"Helmholtz  &  Son." 

"I  know  of  them,"  said  the  baron.  "What  do  you  say  to 
my  wiring  them  to  communicate  with  the  firm  I  have  in 
mind?" 

Anna  shook  her  head. 

"It's  awfully  good  of  you,  baron,"  she  said.  "But  I  can't 
tell  you  how  Zudie  has  set  her  heart  on  that  farm,  and  it 
will  be  a  godsend  for  the  children.  I  think  Alec  would 
have  preferred  us  to  do  it  this  way.  We  can't  stay  here, 
you  know." 

"He  would  have  known  best,"  replied  the  baron  rev 
erently. 

He  sat  a  while  studying  the  map  of  California,  passing 
his  slender  finger  along  the  twisted  lines  representing  riv 
ers.  At  length  he  looked  up  and  asked,  "Anna-san,  won't 
you  be  advised  ?" 

"It's  just  what  I  want,"  she  reassured  him. 

"With  the  intention  of  disregarding  it.  Perhaps  you'll 
think  me  impertinent,  but  it  is  my  sincere  wish  for  your 
good  that  urges  me " 

"I  know  you've  always  felt  that,"  she  answered,  grate 
ful  for  his  unselfish  devotion. 

"You  should  be  in  the  world,  Anna-san.  You  are  not 
made  to  live  on  a  frontier,  competing  with  peasants.  You 
are  a  lady  of  quality.  You  should  be  again  at  the  head  of  a 
great  house." 

Anna  glanced  at  him  to  read  the  look  of  earnestness  on 


HENRY  JOHNSON  49 

the  tawny  face  from  which  the  mask  of  Asia  seemed  to 
have  fallen  away. 

"You  mean  I  ought  to — marry  again?"  she  asked. 
"Why  not  ?    You  have  all  the  talents  of  the  home-making 
woman.    You  are  too  young  to  go  into  exile." 
"I'll  be  twenty-nine  next  June,"  she  smiled  sadly. 

"In  America  that  is  youth.  You  should  make  up  your 
mind  to  resume  life  where  it  was  broken  off.  I  should  like 
to  think  of  your  deciding  to  do  that." 

"No" — she  shook  her  head — "I  don't  want  even  to  think 
of  it.  It  seems  only  yesterday  that  Alec  was  with  me.  I 
couldn't  forget  like  that,  you  know." 

"Your  memory  does  you  honor,"  said  Tazumi.  "Per 
haps  it  is  just  as  well.  You  are  too  fine  a  woman  to  take 
your  life  lightly.  My  mother  was  like  that.  She  never 
married  again  after  my  father's  death." 

She  could  not  restrain  a  look  of  admiration  for  the  fine 
grained  little  Asiatic  who  had  always  been  so  true  to  the 
best  traditions  of  a  great  people.  She  wondered  what  deli 
cate  instincts  of  chivalry  had  kept  him  a  bachelor  so  long, 
for  Tazumi  was  past  his  forty-fifth  year. 

"How  about  your  California  adventure?"  The  high  over 
tones  of  his  voice  above  the  virile  bass  seemed  to  raise  his 
spirit  from  its  momentary  sadness.  "Since  you  are  deter 
mined  to  be  a  farmerette — I  believe  that  is  the  word — you 
must  let  me  do  my  small  part  toward  making  your  travels 
pleasant." 

"How  nice  of  you !"  she  told  him. 

"When  are  you  going?" 

"Just  two  weeks  from  Saturday." 

"Very  soon,  isn't  it?  Let  me  arrange  for  some  of  my 
Japanese  friends  to  call  and  be  of  service  while  you  are  in 
San  Francisco.  Will  you  be  stopping  over  there?" 

"I— I  think  so." 

She  had  not  considered  the  matter. 

"I'll  let  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Otisuki  know  of  your  coming. 


50  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

You'll  be  interested  in  them,  since  they  have  accomplished 
what  so  many  of  my  countrymen  wish  to  do — become  good 
Americans.  An  interesting  fellow,  Otisuki — self-made 
man;  almost  a  Yankee,  I  might  say." 

Anna  thanked  him  again,  and  was  sorry  to  see  him  about 
to  go  so  soon. 

"You'll  let  me  see  you  again  before  you  leave,  I  hope," 
he  entreated  as  they  shook  hands. 


111 

He  had  no  sooner  gone  than  Anna  was  aware  of  the  curi 
ous  Eurasian  standing  in  one  of  the  dining-room  windows 
at  an  angle  overlooking  the  drawing-room.  She  had  a  dis 
agreeable  sensation  of  having  been  spied  upon,  but  her  an 
noyance  gave  way  to  pity  when  she  glanced  at  the  starved 
figure  silhouetted  in  the  afternoon  light.  What  contrary 
winds  had  blown  this  piece  of  flotsam  into  port?  Tazumi 
had  spoken  of  him  as  a  dangerous  radical.  To  associate 
radicalism  with  the  Japanese  character  was  in  itself  an 
anomaly.  Curiosity  stirred  her  as  she  went  into  the  dining- 
room,  resolved  to  question  him  again.  But  the  Eurasian 
was  the  first  to  speak. 

"Mrs.  Ely,"  he  suggested  as  he  stood  balanced  on  the 
window  sill,  "would  you  permit  me  to  make  a  few  sketches 
of  you,  just  as  you  are,  in  that  charming  costume?" 

"Then  you're  an  artist  as  well  as  a  philosopher,"  she 
laughed. 

"I  do  almost  everything  badly,"  he  replied  as  he  shambled 
down.  "Sometimes  I  do  sketches  for  a  Tokio  fashion 
magazine.  They  are  interested  in  aping  foreign  styles. 
Once  in  a  while  they  pay  me,  but  my  work  is  worth  noth 
ing." 

"For  an  egotist,"  she  said,  giving  candor  for  candor, 
"you  underrate  yourself  terrifically." 

Somewhere  out  of  his  scarecrow  clothes  the  Eurasian 


HENRY  JOHNSON  51 

had  brought  a  sketch  pad  and  pencil.  Twisting  his  queer 
eyes  from  Anna's  face  to  the  pad  in  his  hand,  he  worked 
rapidly,  and  as  he  worked  he  talked. 

"It  is  impossible  to  underrate  me,"  he  said  with  a  sar 
castic  smile.  "I  represent  zero  at  par.  Now  with  Baron 
Tazumi  it  is  different."  The  last  remark  justified  her  sus 
picions  as  to  the  man's  eavesdropping.  "Oh,  yes,  I  was  lis 
tening.  He  is  a  very  noble  man.  Too  noble,  I  should  say. 
Universal  brotherhood  is  his  hobby.  Splendid  hobby." 

"He  informs  me  that  you  are  a  socialist,"  said  Anna,  now 
anxious  to  draw  him  out. 

"Well,"  he  drawled,  "in  me  you  see  the  brotherhood  ex 
emplified.  By  the  way,  Mrs.  Ely,  you  can  dismiss  me  any 
time  I  become  too  impertinent.  I'm  resigning  from  this 
window  job  to-day.  I  have  sufficient  money  to  keep  me  in 
books,  tobacco  and  inferior  liquor  for  a  month.  Just  tell 
me  when  I  shall  get  out." 

"I  wouldn't  send  you  away  for  anything,"  she  assured 
him,  now  quite  intrigued  with  his  topsy-turvy  conversa 
tion. 

"Well,  as  I  was  saying,  in  me  you  see  the  brotherhood  of   V\ 
man  exemplified,  an  experiment  in  flesh  and  blood.    In  the    \ 
police  courts  I  am  known  as  a  hobo ;  but  it  would  be  more      j 
elegant  to  call  me  a  chimera — the   dragon's  tail   of  the 
Orient  fastened  to  the  goat's  head  of  Europe.    I  am  a  very     / 
unsatisfactory  beast,  Mrs.  Ely.    All  the  time  the  European    / 
goat  in  me  is  striving  to  butt  forward,  the  dragon's  tail/ 
is  curling  round  some  ancient  tradition  and  pulling  me' 
back. 

"The  brotherhood  of  man  created  me,  Mrs.  Ely,  and  as 
a  machine  I'm  not  worth  the  powder  to  blow  me  up.  I 
never  stick  long  at  anything.  I've  been  a  revolutionist  in 
India,  a  student  in  Massachusetts,  a  water  carrier  with  the 
British  Army  at  Saloniki.  I  fail  to  synchronize,  as  the  say 
ing  goes.  I  have  a  bad  habit  of  seeing  both  sides  of  a 
question.  I  quit  the  Indian  revolution  because  I  couldn't 


52  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

stand  the  Bombay  bombast.  I  failed  as  a  student  because 
I  hated  the  rubbish  they  taught  me  under  the  name  of  eco 
nomics.  I  deserted  from  the  British  Army  because — well, 
I  disagreed  with  the  commanding  general.  And  see  me 
now!  Why  am  I  here?" 

Anna  frankly  had  no  idea. 

"If  I  were  all  American  now,  I'd  be  ashamed  of  what  I 
am  doing.  And  if  I  were  all  Japanese,  I  would  be  sitting 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  perfectly  satisfied  with  myself." 

"Japan  is  not  in  the  Middle  Ages,"  protested  Anna. 

"I  suppose  Baron  Tazumi  has  told  you  that,"  growled 
the  Eurasian  tramp.  "Japan  has  learned  how  to  wear  a 
dress  suit  and  to  say  hello  over  the  telephone  and  to  shake 
hands  American  fashion.  Therefore  it  makes  no  difference 
that  she  gets  down  on  all  fours  before  the  picture  of  the 
Mikado  and  teaches  her  children  in  the  public  schools  that 
Jinmu  Tenno,  her  first  emperor,  was  grandson  of  the  sun 
goddess  and  that  the  Mikados  are  sun  gods  still." 


IV 

"Of  course  Christianity "  began  Anna,  but  was  cut 

off. 

"Christianity !  My  dear  lady,  I  was  a  Christian  before  I 
became  a  socialist  and  got  myself  kicked  out  of  Nippon. 
I'm  still  a  Christian,  I  suppose,  when  I'm  not  drunk  or 
planning  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth.  Christ  was  the 
father  of  democracy.  With  all  its  faults  and  vices,  this 
modern  world  is  still  ruled  by  him.  And  it's  this  world 
that  Japan  is  stepping  into  with  a  firm  conviction  that  she 
can  be  received  as  an  equal  without  in  the  least  believing 
in  equality.  My  dear  lady,  Christ  and  Shinto  must  come 
together  on  my  island  and  fight  the  battle  out  before  we 
can  talk  business  with  the  modern  world." 

"But  you  surely  don't  believe  that  the  Japanese  are  our 
inferiors !"  Anna  broke  in. 


HENRY  JOHNSON  53 

"No  one  who  knows  them  thinks  they  are  inferior  to 
anybody.  It's  not  a  matter  of  inferiority.  It's  a  matter  of 
difference." 

All  during  this  lecture  the  anomaly  had  been  sketching 
busily  in  his  little  pad.  The  situation  seemed  so  idiotic — 
standing  for  her  portrait  before  a  radical  half-breed  win 
dow  washer — that  Anna  moved  at  last  to  go  and  leave  him 
to  his  theories. 

"Just  another  instant,"  he  begged.  "The  likeness  will 
be  a  failure,  but  some  day  you  may  be  proud  to  have  a 
sketch  signed  by  Henry  Johnson.  I  may  be  famous  the 
day  after  I  am  hanged." 

"Henry  Johnson!" 

The  commonplace  American  name  came  involuntarily  to 
her  lips. 

"My  rubber  stamp,"  he  explained.  "I  took  it  because  it 
was  easy — I  detest  difficult  things.  And  here  is  the  very 
poor  likeness,  Mrs.  Ely." 

Henry  Johnson  tore  a  sheet  from  his  pad  and  handed  it 
over.  It  was,  as  he  had  promised,  a  very  poor  likeness, 
but  it  was  drawn  with  a  skill  of  line  which  indicated  that 
the  Eurasian  was  an  artist,  whatever  else  he  might  dis 
claim  for  himself. 

"It's  really  quite  lovely,"  she  admitted.  "You  aren't 
going  to  give  it  to  me?" 

"Oh,  defer  payment,"  he  suggested  with  a  courtly  bow, 
"until  some  time  when  I  need  the  money.  I'll  have  fifteen 
dollars  coming  to  me  to-night  when  I  tender  my  resigna 
tion  to  the  Zelwitz  Window  Cleaning  Co.  And  if  you'll 
please  sign  here " 

He  brought  one  of  Mr.  Zelwitz's  blanks  from  his  pocket 
and  indicated  the  line  where  she  should  place  her  signa 
ture. 

"Fourteen  windows  duly  purified  so  that  the  beauty  of 
your  home  may  exchange  views  with  the  light  of  heaven. 


54  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

Mr.  Zelwitz  is  a  great  idealist,  I  am  sure,  or  he  would  never 
have  adopted  this  profession." 

She  signed  the  slip  and  saw  Henry  Johnson  pick  up  his 
flop-brimmed  hat  before  he  offered  her  another  surprise. 

"Mrs.  Ely,"  said  the  oddity,  "permit  me  the  privilege 
of  the  empty  wind.  What  I  am  about  to  say  amounts  to 
nothing,  and  I  will  expect  you  to  disregard  it." 

'Then  why  not  save  your  breath?"  she  asked,  having 
decided  to  humor  him  as  a  court  jester. 

"I  have  never  done  that." 

Suddenly  his  whole  manner  changed  and  his  irreconcil 
able  features  took  on  a  look  of  prophecy  as  he  said,  "Ta- 
zumi  was  honest." 

"Honest?" 

She  stood  back  a  little,  half  afraid  of  what  he  would 
say. 

"Let  me  join  him  in  that  good  advice.  Don't  go  to  Cali 
fornia." 

She  might  have  questioned  his  impertinent  admonition, 
but  the  Eurasian  tramp  gave  her  no  opportunity.  Before 
she  could  call  him  back  he  had  shambled  away.  His  seamy 
shoes  rattled  down  the  rear  passage  like  a  fateful  warning. 


CHAPTER  V:    THE  OLD  WIFE  AND  THE  NEW 


NOW  the  little  town  of  Ely,  which  Baron  Tazumi  had 
indicated  on  the  map  with  the  point  of  his  delicate 
forefinger,  sits  near  the  river  bank  and  not  many  miles  dis 
tant  from  the  busy  city  which  the  people  of  Nippon  call 
Ofu — City  of  Cherries — and  the  long-haired  ones  of  the 
West  call  Sacramento.  Aviators,  flying  over  from  the  gov- 
errdhent  fields  beyond,  look  down  on  the  huddle  of  mean 
buildings  in  the  midst  of  neatly  squared  orchards  and  plan 
tations,  and  as  they  pass  over  they  say,  "Japtown !"  and  let 
it  go  at  that. 

The  casual  Californian,  motoring  between  his  farm  and 
the  city,  gets  a  more  human  view  of  this  modern  phenom 
enon;  a  transplanted  race  with  their  elfin  peculiarities — 
different  from  us,  as  though  the  people  of  Mars  had 
plumped  down  upon  America  and  had  schooled  themselves 
to  wear  American  shoes  on  their  three-legged  bodies.  Su 
perficially  the  town  of  Ely,  surrounded  by  orchard  and 
vineyard,  differs  little  from  the  average  rural  village.  It 
has  a  hill  to  give  variety  to  its  short  main  street,  and  down 
an  alley  sloping  toward  the  river  are  still  relics  of  the  Chi 
nese,  who  lived  in  crazy  barracks  until  they  were  pushed 
aside  by  the  more  persistent  race.  Square-topped  store 
fronts  line  the  main  street.  There  is  one  dilapidated 
church,  and  across  the  way  a  handsomer  and  more  modern 
edifice  is  in  the  course  of  construction. 

Here  in  Ely  you  will  find  nothing  of  the  fairyland  charm, 
the  quaintness  of  composition,  the  age-old  prettiness  which 
we  have  learned  to  associate  with  Japan.  The  stores,  it  is 

55 


56  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

true,  are  marked  with  the  delicate  Chinese  characters 
which  never  disfigure  a  building  as  our  Roman  letters  often 
do.  Brown,  slant-eyed  men  in  baggy  overalls,  rough  sweat 
ers  and  swampers'  boots,  muddy  from  the  irrigation  ditches, 
come  slouching  in  toward  the  general  store.  In  and  out  of 
the  local  garage  small  tinnish  automobiles  are  charging 
noisily  all  day  long.  Little  brown  men  sit  at  the  wheel  and 
gossip  of  grease  cups  and  gear  shifts  in  the  language  of 
Nippon. 

In  a  vacant  lot  over  by  the  railway  station  which  fronts 
the  main  street  and  is  the  center  of  the  town,  Japanese  boys 
of  sixteen  practice  baseball  during  the  dull  season  of  the 
year.  They  hold  their  bats  quaintly,  but  their  batting  aver 
age  is  fair,  and  they  raise  a  great  hullabaloo  as  they 
scramble  back  and  forth  contesting  for  a  lofty  fly.  Occa 
sionally  they  revert  to  the  language  of  the  long-haired  peo 
ple  and  cry,  "Rotten !"  or  "Line  'er  out !"  Squatty  women, 
leading  small  children  and  carrying  smaller  ones,  cross  the 
road  mincingly  on  their  turned-in  toes.  Most  of  these 
women  are  cowled  under  great  blue  sunbonnets;  some  of 
them  go  bareheaded  beneath  the  leaden  skies.  The  chil 
dren  are  often  pretty — prettiest  when  their  gowns  are  of 
the  crazy-quilt  Japanese  printed  cotton,  even  though  they 
are  cut  in  a  bad  imitation  of  American  style. 

At  the  sight  of  a  man  the  women  bend  their  bodies 
stiffly  from  the  waist  up,  accompanying  the  gesture  with  a 
folding  of  the  hands  and  a  lowering  of  the  eyes.  In  Ely, 
California,  the  male  is  lord.  Here  the  names  of  Mrs. 
Pankhurst  and  Mrs.  Blatch  are  never  mispronounced  for 
the  very  good  reason  that  they  are  never  mentioned. 

ii 

Now  the  strip  of  land  known  even  to  the  Japanese  as  the 
Ely  tract  lies  on  the  river  verge  a  good  sling's  shot  from 
the  town  of  Bly;  and  it  was  on  a  bright  Saturday  morning 


THE  OLD  WIFE  AND  THE  NEW    57 

early  in  March  that  Mr.  Shiniba,  Esquire,  came  slopping 
in  from  the  fields,  his  boots  caked  with  the  mud  of  river 
loam.  The  rain  god  had  been  moderately  liberal,  he  con 
cluded,  since  there  had  been  two  good  days  of  downpour, 
and  only  at  dawn  had  the  brisk  north  wind  managed  to 
drive  the  clouds  toward  Fresno.  But  the  ground  would  be 
too  wet  for  working  yet  a  while  unless  the  dry  wind  con 
tinued.  The  prune  trees  were  budding  healthfully  and 
blossoms  were  appearing  in  the  four-acre  strawberry  patch. 
It  would  be  a  fair  year  for  him  and  for  the  strange  white 
woman  who  had  insisted  on  occupying  the  ranch  house. 

It  was  about  time  for  the  noon  meal  when  Shimba 
plodded  over  irrigation  ditches  and  through  burgeoning 
orchards.  He  was  a  knotty  little  man  with  a  face  all  puck 
ered  in  curly  lines.  His  front  teeth  protruded,  giving  him 
the  appearance  of  a  brindle  bulldog.  His  ears,  which  were 
reddened  with  sunburn,  stood  out  straight  under  his  bat 
tered  golf  cap.  Rather  gracelessly  he  wore  the  mask  of 
Asia,  and  through  the  slitlike  eyeholes  living  fires  glittered 
constantly,  fed  forever  by  his  restless  thoughts. 

He  paused  for  breath  in  the  wagon  road  and  looked 
round  him.  Across  the  brownish  river  water  the  landscape 
showed  green  as  emerald,  with  a  broad  velvet-brown  patch 
in  the  center,  where  Japanese  farmers  had  been  breaking 
soil  for  potato  planting.  Above  the  orchard  tip,  on  the 
near  side  of  the  stream,  he  could  see  the  jig-saw  architec 
ture  of  the  Ely  farmhouse,  which  had  lain  deserted,  accord 
ing  to  contract,  for  many  years.  Soon  this  American 
woman  would  be  coming  here  to  live.  Probably  she  would 
begin  by  throwing  money  away  on  expensive  house  paint — 
another  example  of  American  foolishness. 

Shimba  grunted  and  was  about  to  go  his  heavy  way  when 
a  moving  spot  of  dirty  yellow,  slinking  among  the  tree 
trunks,  caught  his  eye.  A  coyote!  Shimba's  heart  stood 
still  as  the  cowardly  little  animal,  keenly  aware  that  his 
enemy  was  unarmed,  stopped  at  a  safe  distance  to  mock 


58  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

him  with  sharp  eyes  and  lolling  tongue.  It  was  just  an  in 
stant,  but  in  that  instant  Shimba  knew  that  the  cursed  ani 
mal  was  laughing  at  him.  His  mouth  wide  open,  his  ears 
peaked,  he  laughed  the  silent  laugh  of  fiends,  then  disap 
peared  as  though  the  earth  had  swallowed  him  up. 

"The  fox  woman  will  come  again !"  said  Shimba,  strug 
gling  in  vain  with  the  cold  fear  that  was  in  his  heart. 

A  hundred  ancestors  were  speaking  to  Shimba  in  the 
voice  of  superstition.  This  animal  was  indeed  a  fox.  Now 
one  must  be  poorly  read  in  the  folk  lore  of  Yamato  not  to 
realize  that  the  fox  is  a  crafty  beast,  cunning  in  the  wiles  of 
enchantment.  A  demon  by  nature  and  the  friend  of 
demons,  he  loves  to  lurk  near  the  houses  of  honest  people, 
awaiting  his  chance  to  crawl  under  their  finger  nails  and 
possess  their  souls  until  they  dream  strange  dreams  and 
gibber  in  the  voice  of  the  fox. 

Shimba  had  cause  for  worry.  Only  last  summer  he  had 
divorced  his  wife,  Hana-san,  an  old  woman  of  thirty-four. 
Mr.  Akagashi,  of  the  drug  store,  had  suggested  the  sepa 
ration,  justly  deciding  that  Shimba  was  wasting  his  days 
with  a  sterile  mate.  Mr.  Akagashi  had  seen  to  everything, 
drawn  up  the  papers,  engaged  a  lawyer,  obtained  a  decree 
according  to  the  law  of  the  long-haired  ones.  Hana-san 
was  about  to  be  sent  to  So  Ko,  Port  of  Mulberries,  which 
the  long-hairs  call  San  Francisco.  But  what  then  ? 

The  fox,  enchanted  devil  that  he  is,  had  crept  in  through 
the  window !  Hadn't  Shimba  heard  him  in  the  night,  rattling 
the  panes  in  imitation  of  the  north  wind  ?  Hadn't  he  heard 
Hana-san  talking  strangely  in  her  corner?  Hadn't  he 
struck  a  light  to  find  her  huddled  on  the  floor,  squeaking 
and  gibbering  in  the  voice  of  the  fox? 

It  had  been  an  embarrassing  situation  for  Shimba  to 
discover  the  woman  whom  he  had  just  divorced  mad  as  a 
hatter  and  unwilling  to  quit  his  premises.  But  the  able  Mr. 
Akagashi  and  the  elegant  Mr.  Oki  had  taken  the  matter  in 
hand  for  him  and  shipped  Hana-san  to  Sacramento,  where 


THE  OLD  WIFE  AND  THE  NEW    59 

she  had  been  put  in  the  care  of  a  very  wise  woman,  expert 
in  the  driving  out  of  foxes.  The  former  Mrs.  Shimba  had 
earned  her  keep  as  dishwasher  in  an  American  restaurant. 
That  arrangement  had  been  satisfactory  enough,  but  only 
yesterday  the  rumor  had  reached  Shimba  that  his  divorced 
wife  had  been  seen  lurking  in  the  outskirts  of  Ely. 

"She  must  ^be  here,"  thought  Shimba,  his  wiry  hair 
bristling  as  he  recalled  the  triumphant  look  in  the  coyote's 
face  leering  at  him  through  the  trees. 

He  shuffled  on  toward  his  unpainted  shack,  and  his  rest 
less  eyes  were  snapping,  snapping  as  he  walked.  He  had 
irons  in  the  fire,  many  and  hot.  Would  the  baneful  fox 
again  interfere  with  his  plans? 

iii 

The  house  which  he  approached  was  shedlike  in  its  sim 
plicity,  built  of  pine  boards,  neatly  shingled  and  with  a 
four-paned  window  on  each  side.  The  earth  before  the 
door  had  been  trampled  flat,  and  its  Spartan  sterility  was 
scarcely  relieved  by  a  row  of  iris  plants  budding  along  the 
crude  foundation.  At  a  far  corner,  under  the  house,  a 
stone-lined  cavern  yawned,  vomiting  charcoal  and  burnt 
twigs.  This  was  the  furnace  which  heated  the  bath  box 
within,  where  the  Shimba  family  and  the  Matsu  family, 
after  washing  their  bodies  with  soap,  were  wont  to  take 
their  evening  soak,  all  in  the  same  water,  Shimba  coming 
first  and  the  others  following  in  the  order  of  their  im 
portance. 

Matsu,  his  partner,  stood  with  his  wife  and  three  of  his 
children  in  the  little  space  outside,  and  though  they  said 
nothing,  Shimba  knew  as  though  he  had  been  told  what 
awaited  him  within.  Their  silence  meant  the  presence  of 
the  fox  woman,  his  former  wife,  who  must  never  be  re 
ferred  to  as  different  from  the  others  of  earth. 

Bracing   himself    for   the   ordeal,   he  entered  the   dirt- 


60  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

floored  room.  He  stood  for  an  instant,  his  eyes  still  blinded 
by  sunlight.  The  bare-board  room  with  its  rough  table  and 
homemade  benches  seemed  at  first  deserted.  His  eye  dis 
cerned  the  rice  bin  near  the  wall  and  the  jars  of  shoyu  on 
the  shelf — familiar  objects  all.  It  was  in  a  far  corner, 
where  the  open-fronted  stove  of  clay  and  stones  supported 
the  family  rice  kettle,  that  Shimba  saw  her  squatting  on  the 
floor. 

She  did  not  look  up.  Patiently,  one  at  a  time,  she  fed 
twigs  to  the  coals  so  that  they  would  glow  without  a  blaze. 
Shimba's  heart  stood  still.  The  fox  woman,  utterly  disre 
garding  her  changed  status,  had  come  back  to  cook  his 
meals. 

"Hana-san !" 

Shimba  spoke  hesitantly,  do  what  he  would  to  steady 
his  voice.  His  divorced  wife  looked  up,  causing  him  to 
glance  swiftly  away  lest  the  fox  should  master  him  also. 
Her  face  was  white  as  a  leper's.  Gray  hair  straggled  down 
her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  held  the  troubled  look  of  the  in 
sane. 

"Hana-ko,"  he  persisted,  in  an  endearing  tone,  lest  he 
annoy  the  fox  within  her,  "honorably  deign  to  return  to 
Akagashi-san,  who  will  transport  you  safely  away." 

"I  hear,  Most  Honorable,"  she  replied,  bending  toward 
the  dirt  floor. 

"You  have  forgotten  your  house,  Hana,"  he  went  on, 
seeing  that  she  made  no  move  to  go. 

"Do  I  live  no  longer  here?"  she  asked  in  the  new  voice 
which  she  had  taken  since  her  madness. 

"I  shall  see  that  Mr.  Akagashi  takes  you  safely  back  to 
the  wise  woman  of  Ofu,  who  is  your  friend." 

"My  friend— yes." 

Much  to  Shimba's  relief,  his  discarded  wife  rose  and 
waddled  out  through  the  open  door,  a  shapeless  creature, 
gray  and  terrible,  with  uncombed  hair  and  dragging  skirt. 

Matsu  and  his  family  came  in  as  soon  as  the  bewitched 


THE  OLD  WIFE  AND  THE  NEW     61 

one  had  gone.  Shimba  dared  not  follow  her.  He  soothed 
himself  with  the  assurance  that  Akagashi's  assistants  would 
be  kind  to  her  and  send  her  away  as  soon  as  she  appeared 
in  the  village.  Yet  the  episode  had  unnerved  him  and  cast 
a  cloud  across  the  brilliant  pleasures  he  had  planned  for 
the  afternoon. 

iv 

On  the  rough  board  table  by  the  window  places  had 
been  laid  for  four;  bowls  for  rice  and  tea,  plates  for  fish, 
little  dishes  of  shoyu  sauce  and  chopsticks — the  latter 
brown  with  use,  not  unsplit  and  cased  with  paper  as  they 
are  provided  in  fashionable  restaurants. 

Matsu,  who  was  younger  and  handsomer  than  Shimba, 
read  the  Japanese  papers,  while  his  wife  attended  the  rice 
kettle.  Shimba  went  into  an  inner  room  and  prepared  to 
shave.  It  was  a  chaos  of  a  room,  but  he  was  accustomed  to 
that.  Since  his  separation  from  his  wife  Mrs.  Matsu  had 
taken  to  piling  superfluous  household  goods  on  the  sleep 
ing  platform  where  at  night  his  mat  was  spread.  An  in 
fant's  gocart,  a  broom,  a  pile  of  Japanese  magazines,  a 
sewing  machine,  a  bundle  of  soiled  clothes  and  one  of  the 
multicolored  batwing  kites  which  the  Japanese  children  love 
to  fly — these  and  innumerable  other  cluttering  things  were 
strewn  from  platform  to  floor. 

Shimba  took  a  safety  razor  from  his  trunk,  lathered  and 
proceeded  to  shave ;  but  the  blade  had  scarce  passed  across 
his  stubbly  chin  when  Matsu  entered  smilingly.  The  Mat- 
sus  and  their  four  children  slept  in  the  room  beyond,  but 
Matsu's  social  hours  were  spent  with  Shimba.  Whom, 
otherwise,  could  he  talk  to? 

"So  you  are  going  somewhere?"  he  asked,  viewing  the 
unusual  preparations  of  his  successor  in  management. 

"To  Ofu,"  declared  Shimba,  meaning  Sacramento. 

"Ah" — Matsu  came  a  little  closer,  and  his  eyes  were  wide 
with  curiosity — "then  it  is  a  great  occasion." 


62  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"And  let  me  tell  you,  Matsu-san,"  said  Shimba  through 
his  lather,  "you  also  will  shave  and  dress  yourself  cere 
moniously.  I  have  need  of  your  superior  knowledge  this 
afternoon." 

"So?    And  what  can  my  poor  ability  do  for  you?" 

"You  must  know,  Matsu-san,  that  I  have  been  married 
again." 

"That  I  have  been  told,"  admitted  Matsu.  "But  I  have 
never  been  permitted  to  see  the  honorable  photograph  of 
your  lady." 

"I  shall  show  you." 

Shimba,  who  had  finished  wiping  his  chin,  opened  his 
trunk  again  and  brought  two  photographs  from  its  flimsy 
upper  tray.  The  one  he  handed  Matsu  was  done  in  the 
stereotyped  manner  of  the  cheap  gallery,  but  the  face  it 
showed  was  young  and  wistful.  The  little  maid  in  the  pic 
ture  looked  to  be  about  sixteen.  Her  mouth  was  small  and 
soft  as  a  baby's ;  a  modest  kimono  was  folded  sweetly  across 
her  breast. 

"You  have  done  well,  Mr.  Shimba!"  exclaimed  Matsu. 
"And  the  other  picture,  I  suppose,  is  of  yourself?" 

"Eh !"  grunted  Shimba,  and  handed  over  the  photograph 
he  had  been  holding  back. 

It  was  small  wonder  that  Matsu  puzzled  a  while  over 
the  hard-glazed  surface  which  bore  the  imprint  of  the  Ris 
ing  Sun  Photo  Parlor,  Sacramento.  Could  the  perfect 
young  Japanese  in  a  dinner  jacket  and  white  dress  tie  be 
any  kin  to  the  hard-faced  Shimba?  A  younger  brother 
perhaps — the  resemblance  was  unmistakable. 

"A  splendid  portrait!"  declared  the  polite  Matsu. 

"A  little  fashionable,  perhaps,"  admitted  Shimba.  "But 
this  is  like  the  one  I  sent  the  lady.  The  photographer,  who 
is  a  wise  man,  cautioned  me  that  a  bridegroom  should  ap 
pear  especially  stylish  when  he  has  never  met  his  bride 
and  is  forced  to  be  absent  from  the  ceremony.  Therefore 
he  was  very  artistic.  From  a  photograph  I  had  taken  in 


THE  OLD  WIFE  AND  THE  NEW    63 

youth  he  cut  the  head  and  joined  it  nicely  to  this  American 
dress  suit  which  he  had  in  stock.  It  costs  me  twenty  yen — 
very  reasonable  in  these  times.  In  this  bargain  he  included 
a  few  touches  to  beautify  my  features." 

"What  lady  could  resist  so  beautiful  a  thing?"  sighed 
Matsu.  "And  your  honorable  wife  will  arrive  here  soon?" 

"In  about  a  month,"  said  Shimba.  "The  ceremony  took 
place  between  our  families  in  Kobe  early  in  February — 
before  the  new  law  went  into  effect,  you  understand." 

"I  hope  you  will  recognize  her  by  this  portrait,"  said 
Matsu.  "Sometimes  they  are  older  than  they  wish  to 
appear." 

"I  will  recognize  her,"  grunted  the  farmer. 

"One  would  think  she  were  coming  to-day  by  all  your 
preparations." 

"Ah,"  smiled  Shimba,  "it  is  to  Sacramento  I  am  going 
to  arrange  some  business  and  to  buy  bridal  garments  for 
myself.  It  may  be  long  before  we  have  another  day  off. 
So  it  is  that  I  am  asking  you  to  come  and  give  advice." 

Matsu  was  only  too  quick  to  take  the  hint  and  to  dis 
appear  into  the  family  bedchamber  beyond.  Fifteen  min 
utes  later  the  males  of  the  household  sat  at  table  arrayed 
in  the  best  they  had.  Somewhat  nervously  they  plied  their 
chopsticks,  scooping  rice  from  bowl  to  mouth,  dipping  bits 
of  fish  in  shoyu  sauce,  drinking  clear  yellow  tea  with  that 
sibilant  noise  regarded  as  good  form  among  the  people  of 
the  sun.  Mrs.  Matsu  fetched  and  carried  from  stove  to 
table,  having  no  place  at  the  banquet  of  her  lord. 

Shimba  took  occasion,  when  Matsu  had  gone  to  the 
garage  for  their  jointly  owned  car,  to  reenter  his  bedroom 
stealthily.  He  closed  the  door  behind  him,  went  to  his 
trunk  and  lifted  the  top  tray.  Out  of  one  corner  he  took  a 
paper  packet  and  opened  one  end  to  see  that  the  bank  notes 
were  undisturbed.  Nine  hundred  dollars — practically  all 
that  remained  to  him  from  last  year's  profits  after  his  gam 
bling  debts  were  paid,  for  Shimba's  prosperity  had  been 


64  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

handicapped  by  the  vice  of  his  people.  This  small  bale  of 
money  represented  a  sacred  pledge  to  him.  Before  a  Bud 
dhist  bonze  in  Sacramento  he  had  sworn  that  he  would 
gamble  no  more. 

He  slipped  the  bills  into  his  pocket,  determined  to  visit 
Sacramento  and  invest  his  money  just  as  he  had  promised 
Mr.  Akagashi  he  would  do. 


CHAPTER  VI:    AN  HOUR'S  WEAKNESS 


MR.  MATSU  drove  his  car  with  a  certain  brilliant  tech- 
nic  in  keeping  with  his  handsome  and  adventurous 
personality,  but  the  knotty  little  man  beside  him  held  his 
peace.  Only  his  eyes  were  alive,  winking,  winking  in  the 
broad  sunlight.  Shimba  was  not  a  communicative  man, 
even  for  a  Japanese,  and  this  morning  he  uttered  not  a 
word  until  Matsu  had  driven  out  of  the  orchard  road  and 
into  the  main  street  of  Ely. 

"Stop  at  Sago-san's  general  store,"  he  commanded 
rudely. 

Matsu,  being  used  to  his  partner's  ways,  merely  nodded 
and  guided  his  car  carefully  through  the  teeming  street. 
It  was  Saturday  afternoon,  and  an  off  day  on  the  fruit 
farms ;  therefore  the  yellow  people  had  come  thronging  into 
the  settlement  to  buy  their  week's  supplies,  to  consult  the 
pastor  of  the  Japanese  church,  to  admire  the  outrageous 
foreign  comedy  of  Charlie  Chaplin  at  the  tiny  motion-pic 
ture  theater  beyond  the  packing  house. 

The  handsome  new  building,  now  nearing  completion  on. 
the  lot  just  opposite  the  Methodist  church,  had  attracted  a 
crowd.  Otherwise  as  severe  in  outline  as  a  New  England 
meeting  house,  it  was  adorned  at  the  roof  peak  with  an 
ornamental  lotos  emblem  which  an  Oriental  house  painter, 
swinging  aloft  from  block  and  tackle,  was  touching  up  with 
a  coat  of  gilt.  A  motor  truck  had  backed  up  against  the 
door  and  from  its  tailboard  a  troupe  of  gigantic  Americans 
were  hauling  big  crates  marked  with  Japanese  labels  as  well 
as  the  English  address,  "Oriental  Buddhist  Church,  Ely,  Cal." 

65 


66  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"Honorably  tell  me,  Osaki-san,"  said  Matsu  politely, 
stopping  his  car  beside  a  little  old  man  in  a  red  sweater, 
"has  the  altar  arrived  now  ?" 

"The  honorable  altar  of  Buddha,  Matsu-san,"  replied  the 
farmer,  bowing  and  raising  his  straw  hat.  "Bought  with 
the  money  so  piously  collected  by  Mrs.  Shimba." 

Shimba's  face  was  stony  at  this  compliment  for  his  di 
vorced  wife. 

'The  temple  will  be  opened  with  ceremonies  three  weeks 
from  to-morrow,"  Osaki-san  explained. 

"And  what  does  the  Reverend  Professor  Awaga  think 
about  his  Christian  congregation  now?"  grinned  Matsu. 

"Ah" — Mr.  Osaki  never  smiled — "what  will  all  the 
Christians  say  when  they  see  this  remarkable  shrine  en 
tirely  covered  with  golden  prayers?  It  cost  six  thousand 
yen  in  the  best  factory  in  Tokio." 

Matsu  looked  slyly  across  the  street  toward  the  small, 
shabby  Methodist  church.  On  the  doorstep  a  tiny  man  in  a 
frock  coat  stood  bleakly  watching.  The  Reverend  Profes 
sor  Awaga  had  reasons  for  alarm. 

Shimba  left  Matsu  in  the  car  and  entered  Sago's  general 
store.  The  enterprising  proprietor  was  much  in  evidence, 
but  Shimba  suspected  that  Mr.  Akagashi,  the  druggist, 
would  be  conferring  in  Sago's  office  where  he  most  often 
repaired  for  privacy.  It  was  a  busy  afternoon  at  Sago's. 
Behind  every  counter  yellow  boys  were  climbing  ladders 
from  shelf  to  shelf  to  bring  down  favorite  brands  of  canned 
clams  or  bamboo  sprouts.  There  were  children  every 
where,  playing  peep-bo  behind  rice  sacks,  sucking  taffy  in 
parental  arms,  peering  sharp  eyed  round  every  angle  of  the 
establishment.  James  Furioki,  only  son  of  S.  Furioki,  the 
local  barber,  had  just  purchased  a  kite  out  of  Mr.  Sago's 
large  supply.  It  was  a  demoniacal  kite  with  a  ferociously 
painted  face.  It  carried  a  fan,  and  across  the  fan  were 
printed  three  bold  Japanese  characters. 

"Mr.  Akagashi  is  here  but  very  busy  now,"  reported 


AN  HOUR'S  WEAKNESS  67 

Sago's  head  clerk,  emerging  from  the  rear  with  a  can  of 
kerosene. 

Shimba,  quite  undiscouraged,  passed  through  the  jumble 
until  he  arrived  at  the  dim  recess  where  the  important  drug 
gist  sat  crouched  over  a  desk,  another  head  close  to  his.  A 
modish  young  Japanese,  whose  pin-check  suit,  light-topped 
shoes  and  burnt-orange  tie  quite  outshone  anything  else  in 
Ely,  leaned  close  to  his  side  and  talked  rapidly  in  the  lan 
guage  which,  however  spoken,  is  always  beautiful. 

Minejuro  Akagashi,  druggist,  land  speculator,  local  polit 
ical  boss  and  power  in  the  Beneficent  Society,  was  a 
skinny  little  man  with  a  drooping  gray  mustache  and  red- 
rimmed  eyes  which  peered  with  scholarly  minuteness 
through  his  gold-bowed  spectacles. 

"Ah,  how  do  you  do,  Shimba-san!" 

He  rose  and  bobbed.  Shimba  removed  his  hat  and 
bobbed.  The  elegant  young  man,  standing  apart,  shed  be 
nevolent  smiles. 

''Meet  Mr.  Oki,  Mr.  Shimba/'  invited  the  druggist  in 
English. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Shimba !"  cried  the  young  worldling  in  the  same 
language,  as  he  shook  hands  heartily. 

"How  are  you  do?"  asked  Shimba,  struggling  with  his 
words. 

"You  are  on  the  Bly  tract,  are  you  not?"  inquired  the 
elegant  one. 

"Yes,  sair.    I  take  job  of  share-it  with  that  lady." 

"Oki-san  is  our  representative  of  the  Beneficent  Society," 
explained  Akagashi,  shifting  to  Japanese.  "He  represents 
us  here  at  Bly  since  the  departure  of  Mr.  Nichi." 

"Most  honorable  local  secretary." 

Shimba  bowed  again,  and  made  a  great  hissing  through 
his  prominent  teeth.  The  name  of  the  Beneficent  Society 
filled  him  with  confidence,  as  he  had  cause  to  regard  this 
great  league,  with  its  offices  in  every  Japanese  colony  and 
its  mysterious  power  to  aid  his  people,  as  his  natural  court 


68  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

of  appeal.  Therefore  he  went  fumbling  into  an  inside 
pocket  and  brought  forth  a  soiled  envelope. 

"Though  I  am  an  English  scholar,"  he  explained  defen 
sively,  "I  am  sometimes  confused  by  their  legal  phrases. 
So  I  brought  it  to  you,  Akagashi-san,  thinking  that  you 
would  honorably  deign " 

Akagashi  took  the  document  in  his  nervous  little  hands 
and  spread  it  under  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Oki. 

"Agreement,"  he  mumbled,  hurrying  over  the  phrases, 
"share  and  share  alike — three  years.  Ah!" 

His  moving  finger  paused  at  a  vital  paragraph. 

He  pondered  over  this,  then  nodded  sagely. 

"That  is  businesslike,"  he  concluded.  "Party  of  the  first 
part  to  supply  all  tools  and  implements,  to  make  all  neces 
sary  repairs." 

He  stopped  again  at  a  clause  on  the  second  page,  while 
Mr.  Oki's  head  dropped  lower  and  lower  toward  the  docu 
ment. 

"This,  I  think,  is  very  good,"  he  declared. 

"Agreement  to  be  null  and  void  in  case  of  disposal  of 
property." 

"Would  this  not  leave  me  high  and  dry,  Most  Honor 
able  ?"  asked  the  farmer. 

"That  is  provided  for  also,"  replied  his  adviser,  but  not 
entirely  to  Shimba's  satisfaction. 

"Who  drew  up  this  paper?"  asked  Mr.  Oki,  losing  his 
pretty  manners  for  the  moment. 

"Some  lawyer  in  Mr.  Helmholtz's  office,"  said  Shimba. 

"H'm!"  Again  Oki's  sharp  eyes  analyzed  the  typewrit 
ten  pages.  "You  are  protected,  I  see,  in  case  of  sale." 

Then  he  folded  the  paper,  looked  at  the  typewritten 
words  on  the  cover  and  handed  it  back  to  Shimba. 

"Very  water-tight,  I  say  so!"  he  pronounced  in  English. 

"I  thought,  Shimba-san,"  said  Mr.  Akagashi,  looking 
rather  severely  through  his  spectacles,  "that  you  were  in- 


AN  HOUR'S  WEAKNESS  69 

tending  to  invest  your  money  in  the  National  Energy  Fruit 
and  Land  Company." 

"I — I  am  on  my  way  to  buy,"  temporized  Shimba. 

"Remember  this  is  important  to  us.  The  time  will  soon 
be  over  for  stock  companies  if  the  state  legislature  has  its 
way." 

"A  million  dollars  will  fix  them,"  interpolated  Mr.  Oki. 

"Be  not  so  sure.  Shimba-san,  how  much  money  will  you 
invest  in  stock?" 

"I  am  rather  hard  up,  Akagashi-san.  I  have  nine  hun 
dred  dollars." 

"Been  gambling  again,  I  see."  The  eyes  behind  the 
glasses  became  hard  as  lacquer. 

"I  have  promised  a  good  bonze  that  I  would  sin  no  more, 
I  am  now  on  my  way  to  Sacramento  to  buy." 

"Saturday  is  a  very  poor  afternoon,"  Mr.  Akagashi  re 
minded  him  sharply.  "You  will  probably  find  the  offices 
closed." 

Shimba  had  no  argument  against  this. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,"  he  mumbled,  "I  had  another 
errand.  I  have  married  a  lady  of  Kobe,  whom  I  am  to  meet 
for  the  first  time  upon  her  arrival  next  month." 

Akagashi  smiled  his  sparse  smile.  Obviously  this  pleased 
him,  since  he  had  strongly  urged  the  farmer  to  be  rid  of  his 
sterile  wife  and  get  a  woman  who  would  honor  the  family 
with  children. 

"Take  care,  Mr.  Shimba,"  the  affable  Mr.  Oki  cautioned 
with  a  worldly  wink.  "The  imperial  government  will  soon 
be  very  severe  about  these  long-distance  marriages." 

"I  have  been  careful,"  Shimba  assured  him.  "But  thank 
you,  Mr.  Oki.  My  family  and  hers  settled  that  affair  last 
month  before  the  law  was  made." 

"You  should  be  very  happy  then,"  declared  Mr.  Oki,  and 
Shimba  was  flattered  at  his  interest. 

Mr.  Akagashi  merely  grunted.  He  was  too  busy  a  man 
to  bother  with  old-fashioned  courtesies.  Bowing  stiffly  to 


70  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

signal  his  caller  to  be  gone,  he  resumed  work  on  the  papers 
on  his  desk.  Shimba  lingered  just  an  instant.  He  had 
wished  to  ask  his  superior  just  what  had  been  done  about 
the  fox  woman's  reappearance  in  Ely.  But  Akagashi's  air 
was  forbidding.  Shimba  was  bowing  himself  out  of  the 
store  when  he  was  aware  that  the  handsome  Mr.  Oki  was 
following  him. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Shimba,"  he  was  beseeching  gracefully,  "just 
one  moment's  advice.  You  spoke  about  buying  clothes  suit 
able  to  a  bridegroom." 

"Yes,  that  was  my  errand,"  admitted  Shimba. 

"Have  you  chosen  a  shop?"  inquired  the  affable  one 
casually. 

"There  is  the  Long  Wisdom  Cash  Store  in  Sacra 
mento " 

"Do  not  think  of  it,  I  entreat  you.  Mr.  Semine,  its  pro 
prietor,  has  been  proven  to  be  a  very  wicked  man.  Could  I 
recommend  an  honest  place?" 

"Honorably  deign  to  do  so,"  asked  Shimba,  delighted  at 
the  distinguished  attention. 

"Here  is  the  card,"  said  Mr.  Oki,  suiting  action  to  word. 
"The  Bushido  Department  Store  of  Walnut  Grove.  There 
you  will  find  all  the  fruits  of  honesty  and  justice.  More 
over,  the  prices  are  quite  reasonable." 

"I  was  intending  to  see  the  Natural  Energy  Company 
about  investment,"  Shimba  faltered  when  Mr.  Oki  cut  in. 

"Remember  how  Honorable  Akagashi  told  you  that  their 
offices  would  be  closed  this  afternoon.  Forgive  my  humble 
suggestion,  however." 

"You  grace  me  with  favors,"  declared  Shimba,  "and  I 
shall  go  at  once  to  Walnut  Grove  for  my  suit  of  clothes." 

Shimba  bobbed.    Mr.  Oki  bobbed. 

"I  shall  make  a  blow-in  there  myself  this  afternoon,"  said 
the  latter,  proud  of  his  American  slang.  "And  let  me  aid 
you  to  a  square  deal." 


AN  HOUR'S  WEAKNESS  71 

ii 

Along  the  levee  road  by  the  broad-bosomed  river  the  little 
car  whirled  through  the  pleasant  air  of  spring.  Here  the 
rich  Sacramento,  spreading  into  backwaters  and  bayous, 
swings  sleepily  round  a  hundred  little  islands,  some  sandy, 
some  loamy,  yet  others  surfaced  deep  with  peat  beds.  In 
this  latter  soil — a  soil  that  will  burn  at  the  touch  of  a  match 
— big  farming  industries  have  laid  out  their  hundreds  and 
thousands  of  acres  in  asparagus.  The  farmers  have  named 
it  the  Grass  Country,  harking  back  to  the  days  when  the 
slender  vegetable  was  called  "sparrowgrass." 

This  low-lying  stretch  of  the  delta  is  dyked  like  Holland, 
Cherry  trees  show  their  tender  pink  bloom ;  pear  orchards 
stretch  their  acres  of  blossoming  candelabra  over  a  surface 
that  is  many  feet  below  the  level  of  the  river.  Along  the 
muddy  waters  small  steam  craft  chug  and  churn.  Down 
in  the  willow  groves  on  the  banks  people  of  many  nation 
alities  live  in  stranded  house  boats,  and  along  the  roads 
enormous  orange-colored  motor  busses,  owned  and  oper 
ated  by  Japanese,  roll  rapidly  on  their  regular  trips  to 
Stockton. 

Driving  along  the  levee  road  one  scarcely  realizes  the 
extent  of  Walnut  Grove.  One  row  of  Chinese  shops  peeps 
over  the  embankment.  A  joss  house,  too,  is  visible,  marked 
out  from  its  more  worldly  neighbors  by  its  gaudy  red-and- 
yellow  porch,  with  a  fringe  of  brilliant  green  running 
round  the  edge  of  a  barrel-shaped  roof.  Under  the  porch 
are  flyspecked  windows,  through  which  the  wanderer  may 
peer  to  behold  a  gilded  shrine  standing  on  an  oilcloth- 
covered  table.  Bold  Chinese  characters  over  the  door 
announce  this  to  be  the  Eastern  Hall  of  Learning.  Like  the 
Chinese  themselves,  this  place  is  frankly  pagan,  having  no 
pretensions  to  Occidental  ways. 

Walnut  Grove,  as  Shimba  and  his  companion  bumped 
noisily  into  town,  was  electric  with  business  energy.  The 


72  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"grass  season"  was  coming  on  with  a  rush.  Tons  of  fresh 
asparagus  were  being  poured  into  the  local  packing  house 
to  be  tied  into  inviting  bundles  by  Chinese  and  Japanese 
labor  and  poured  out  again  toward  Eastern  markets.  Over 
on  the  islands  carloads  of  long  white  spears  traveled  in  an 
almost  continuous  stream  toward  the  canneries. 

Without  penetrating  the  American  section,  distinguished 
by  Mr.  Alec  Brown's  bank  and  Mr.  Alec  Brown's  Tudor 
Hotel,  the  men  from  Ely  plunged  recklessly  down  from  the 
levee  road  into  the  narrow,  crooked  streets  and  balconied 
lanes  of  the  section  miscalled  Chinatown — miscalled  be 
cause  the  Chinese  sit  aloof,  an  ever-shrinking  minority. 
Japanese  restaurants,  Japanese  cinema  theaters,  Japanese 
dry-goods,  hardware,  confectionery  and  grocery  stores, 
Japanese  bath  houses,  Japanese  billiard  parlors  line  the 
streets  in  every  direction. 

Young  blood  seemed  to  sing  in  Shimba's  veins  as  he 
drove  into  Walnut  Grove.  The  place,  somewhat  toned  down 
by  police  regulations  in  recent  years,  still  charmed  him 
with  thoughts  of  sumptuous  dissipation.  Had  he  not  come 
to  buy  his  wedding  garments,  in  which  he  would  soon  make 
himself  presentable  to  a  lady  whom  he  knew  only  by  pho 
tograph?  Was  he  not  to  be  young  again?  And  renewed 
by  marriage,  would  he  not  find  new  luck? 

His  gait  became  almost  dapper  as  he  swung  through  the 
tangled  lanes  in  search  of  the  well-recommended  Bushido 
Department  Store.  The  signs  of  Walnut  Grove  stimulated 
him  pleasantly  like  banners  at  a  fair.  The  Hotel-of-Two- 
Stories  he  recognized,  and  not  far  away  the  equally  elegant 
Hotel-on-a-Wooden-Foundation.  He  had  drunk  sake  at 
many  places  here  and  rejoiced  in  the  days  before  the  white 
man's  drought.  On  a  shingle  by  a  little  wooden  door  he 
saw  the  advertisement  of  a  learned  cmma  who  had  once 
pricked  his  skin  with  a  medicated  needle — red-hot  in  that 
particular  case — to  cure  him  of  rheumatism. 

There  were  many  signs  in  kana — the  popular  shorthand 


AN  HOUR'S  WEAKNESS  73 

of  Japan,  by  which  simple  brush  strokes  express  syllables. 
In  many  cases  the  sign  painters  had  attempted  to  spell  out 
English  words.  On  the  window  of  a  soft-drink  shop  the 
compounded  word  "ah-u-su-ku-een"  could  be  pronounced 
rapidly  to  sound  a  little  like  "ice  cream."  Upon  the  same 
system  "so-o-da"  and  "be-e-ru"  could  be  tortured  into 
"soda"  and  "beer."  The  more  progressive  establishments 
bore  English  signs,  and  two  doors  beyond  the  announce 
ment  "B.  Honda,  Shirt-Tailor,"  appeared  the  fashionable 
lettered  board  of  the  Bushido  Department  Store. 

Superficially  the  place  compared  but  poorly  with  some 
of  the  Japanese  shops  which  Shimba  had  patronized  in  Ofu, 
City  of  Cherries,  which  the  long-haired  ones  called  Sacra 
mento.  But  the  Bushido  was  overpowering  in  its  own  way. 
A  new  wax  dummy,  feminine  in  sex,  displayed  a  plaid 
skirt,  ruffled  waist  and  electric  blue  tam-o'-shanter,  with  the 
placard  pinned  daintily  to  her  bosom,  "We  Bargain  All 
Goods."  A  wide  sheet  of  paper  which  had  been  pasted  in 
the  window  was  lettered  in  Japanese  with  an  announcement 
of  a  hundred  items  which  the  Bushido  was  willing  to  sell 
at  cost  less  than  elsewhere.  The  advertisement  gave  promi 
nence  to  men's  clothing,  cut  to  the  latest  fashion  among  the 
Rice  Country's  people. 

A  neat,  rather  handsome  young  Japanese  came  forward 
to  wait  on  Bushido's  new  customers.  He  seemed  to  be  an 
old  acquaintance  of  Matsu's,  and  was  introduced  to 
Shimba  as  Mr.  Euro. 

"We  came  together  on  the  same  boat  from  Nippon,"  ex 
plained  Matsu.  "That  seemed  a  long  time  ago,  did  it  not, 
Furo-san  ?" 

"An  age  of  ages,"  replied  Mr.  Euro,  and  betrayed  as 
much  emotion  as  is  allowable  among  a  people  schooled  to 
show  none.  "And  now  shall  I  show  you  suits  of  clothes, 
Mr.  Shimba,  of  very  latest  New  York  style?" 

While  Mr.  Euro  was  spreading  out  specimens  of  blue- 


74  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

jay  blue,  Highland  plaid  and  tobacco  brown  he  talked 
amiably  on. 

"Things,  I  hear,  are  looking  well  in  the  region  of  Ely," 
he  volunteered. 

Shimba  explained  that  things  at  Ely  were  so-so.  Never 
an  optimist,  Shimba  would  not  permit  himself  to  be  in 
trigued  into  bright  predictions.  The  rainfall  was  still  several 
inches  short  of  normal.  Prunes  seemed  to  be  budding 
fairly  well.  Of  course  the  strawberry  bed  on  the  Ely  tract 
was  merely  a  minor  investment.  People  shouldn't  raise 
strawberries  on  that  land,  which  was  not  sandy  like  the 
Florin  district. 

"Are  the  white  agitators  troubling  our  people  there?" 
asked  Mr.  Furo,  shaking  out  the  blue-jay  coat  preparatory 
to  a  try-on. 

"A  trifle,"  admitted  Shimba.  "The  wind  will  always 
blow,  you  understand." 

"The  Beneficent  Society  will  take  care  of  that,  I  fancy," 
smiled  the  amiable  clothier.  "And  now,  Mr.  Shimba,  hon 
orably  deign  to  slip  on  this  stylish  coat." 

The  parley  over  clothing  was  protracted  into  midafter- 
noon.  Shimba  fancied  the  suit  of  tobacco  brown,  Matsu 
stuck  to  the  Highland  plaid,  explaining  that  it  slightly  re 
sembled  Mr.  Oki's  style;  but  Furo  was  a  partisan  of  blue- 
jay  blue  from  the  first.  The  fat  Hiroshima  man  who  owned 
Bushido  was  about  to  bring  his  own  weight  into  the  con 
ference  when  a  selection  was  finally  made,  blue  jay  having 
won.  Its  price  was  forty  dollars — reasonable,  as  we  will  all 
agree,  in  a  day  like  ours. 

When  Mr.  Furo  was  folding  the  purchase  neatly  into  a 
pasteboard  box  he  looked  first  at  Shimba,  then  at  the  suit, 
and  gave  vent  to  something  very  like  a  sigh. 

"When  will  you  meet  your  wife,  Shimba-san?"  he  asked. 

"Soon,"  the  farmer  permitted  himself  to  explain.  "I  am 
expecting  word  any  time." 

"I,  too,  am  expecting  word,"  said  Mr.  Furo,  and  the 


AN  HOUR'S  WEAKNESS  75 

mask  of  Asia  dropped  sufficiently  to  show  a  look  of  expec 
tancy. 

"Ah,  then  you,  too,  have  been  married?" 

"In  February,"  he  smiled,  and  his  expression  seemed  to 
warm  the  whole  establishment.  "I  am  impatient  for  her 
to  come,  you  may  believe." 

"So?" 

Both  Shimba  and  Matsu  set  their  faces  against  this  last 
remark.  The  man  had  almost  confessed  fondness  for  his 
wife — a  serious  breach  of  manly  deportment  among  the 
Japanese. 

"Then  you  have  in  reality  met  the  lady  ?"  Matsu  relented 
to  ask. 

He  himself  had  taken  a  picture  bride  and  never  regretted 
the  bargain. 

"I  have  known  her  for  a  long  time,"  persisted  the  shame 
less  Furo.  "We  played  together  as  children — no  need  for 
photographs  to  identify  us,  you  see!" 

His  beaming  smile  found  no  reflection  in  the  faces  before 
him.  Matsu  shuffled  toward  the  door,  as  one  intent  upon 
avoiding  an  unseemly  sight.  Shimba  reached  for  his 
bundle  and  clasped  it  under  his  arm. 

"We  can  send  it  to  Ely  for  you,  if  you  wish,  Shimba- 
san,"  declared  the  unmanly  one,  but  the  farmer  was  already 
moving  toward  the  door. 

What  degenerate  days  were  these !  thought  Shimba.  Furo 
must  be  mad.  How  else  could  he  be  shouting  in  public  to 
tell  all  the  world  that  he  was  in  love  with  the  woman  he 
had  married? 

iii 

The  men  from  Ely  went  forth  into  the  streets  of  China 
town.  Walnut  Grove's  atmosphere  of  dissipation  again 
affected  Shimba  with  a  mild  madness.  This  town,  and  the 
more  open  gambling  section  of  Lockport  beyond,  had  levied 
more  than  once  upon  Shimba's  resources.  Matsu,  always 


76  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

a  better  business  man  than  Shimba,  also  loved  his  game, 
but  he  played  it  with  caution,  as  he  did  all  things. 

They  strolled  into  the  local  pool  parlor  and  found  the 
tables  already  busy  with  the  game  which,  in  America,  seems 
to  have  become  the  Japanese  national  sport.  They  found 
many  friends  in  the  room  and  were  sitting  enviously  among 
the  onlookers,  when  Mr.  Tanosuke  appeared.  He  was  as 
short  as  any  man  can  be  without  being  classed  among 
dwarfs.  But  Tanosuke  wore  his  brown  derby  at  an  angle 
popular  at  the  race  track,  and  there  was  a  horseshoe  of 
imitation  diamonds  in  his  necktie.  No  one  in  Walnut 
Grove  looked  over  his  hard,  square  head,  for  Mr.  Tano 
suke  represented  sophistication  and  contact  with  the  world 
of  sport. 

It  came  as  a  crushing  compliment  then  when  Mr.  Tano 
suke  waddled  across  to  where  Shimba  and  Matsu  sat,  and 
after  greeting  them  in  the  voice  of  a  friend  suggested  a 
game  of  Kelly  pool. 

Tanosuke's  invitations  were  commands.  Almost  without 
requesting  the  favor  he  got  himself  a  table  ahead  of  the 
entire  roomful.  Shimba  sought  to  conceal  his  pride  as  he 
chalked  his  cue  and  attempted  the  first  shot  with  the  eyes 
of  all  the  room  upon  him.  He  waxed  skillful  with  very 
little  practice;  indeed,  from  the  very  beginning  he  seemed 
destined  to  pocket  the  lucky  ball. 

"What  a  day  for  you,  Shimba-san!"  the  great  little  man 
congratulated  him  as  again  the  farmer  shot  at  random  and 
brought  down  the  desired  number. 

Shimba  glowed.  He  never  failed  to  expand  in  the  at 
mosphere  of  chance,  and  it  had  been  a  long  time  since  his 
last  visit  to  Walnut  Grove.  The  game  lasted  until  well 
after  sunset.  When  the  shadows  of  evening  were  cast  over 
the  levee  and  lights  began  to  twinkle  in  the  pool  room 
Shimba  was  a  dollar  and  eighty  cents  ahead  of  the  game. 
Mr.  Tanosuke  pocketed  his  losses  with  the  ease  of  a  man 
who  can  win  or  lose  and  take  it  as  a  matter  of  course. 


AN  HOUR'S  WEAKNESS  77 

Emboldened  by  his  success,  Shimba  had  the  temerity 
to  suggest  that  the  great  and  worldly  Mr.  Tanosuke  should 
dine  with  him  at  the  restaurant  round  the  corner.  The 
great  one  was  pleased,  but  exercised  the  prerogative  of 
greatness  when  he  insisted  that  he  be  host. 

Therefore  they  were  inclosed  together,  the  three  of  them, 
in  a  little  room  of  the  establishment  whose  drum-shaped 
white  lantern  bore  the  familiar  rice  sign.  In  the  full  light 
of  the  place  the  two  farmers  gazed  bashfully  at  the  striped 
silk  collar  and  American  manners  of  Mr.  Tanosuke.  He 
had  a  square  face,  a  perfectly  bald  head  and  diamond  rings 
on  his  smooth  brown  fingers.  A  dish- faced  maiden,  the 
skin  of  her  soft,  plump  arms  showing  through  her  shoddy 
lace  shirt  waist,  placed  a  tray  before  each  of  Tanosuke's 
guests  and  set  thereon  saucers  of  sliced  raw  fish,  daintily 
cooked  seaweed,  thin  soup  which  swam  with  vegetables  cut 
in  flower  patterns,  shoyu  sauce,  egg  noodles  and  geometric 
squares  of  bean  curd.  But  what  next  appeared  caused 
Shimba's  eyes  to  glitter  with  a  sportive  light.  Beside  each 
plate  the  dish-faced  maiden  had  set  a  little  cup,  and  into 
each  she  was  pouring  warmish  yellow  liquid  from  a  long- 
nosed  teapot. 

Sake!  Mr.  Tanosuke  grinned,  and,  lifting  his  cup,  pro 
nounced  in  English  what  so  many  American  drunkards 
have  said  before,  "To  Amendment  Eighteen,  gentlemen!" 

With  innumerable  bowings  and  bobbings  his  guests 
drained  their  little  cups.  The  warm  rice  wine  brought 
quick  visions  to  Shimba's  mind.  A  fat  share  of  stock  in 
the  Natural  Energy  Fruit  and  Land  Company,  then  another 
three  years'  saving,  and  he,  too,  would  drink  sake  every 
night  and  give  fine  dinners  to  his  friends.  Soon  he  would 
have  a  young  wife  and  many  children — mostly  sons. 

Mr.  Tanosuke  had  no  sooner  pulled  his  chopsticks  from 
their  paper  envelope,  split  them  apart  and  arranged  them 
pincers  fashion  between  the  thumb  and  fingers  of  his  right 
hand,  than  he  reverted  to  Shimba's  darling  weakness. 


78  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"Some  are  born  with  a  lucky  day,"  he  said.  "For  me  it 
is  Wednesday.  For  you  apparently  it  is  Saturday.  See 
how  you  made  all  the  numbers  at  the  Kelly  game !" 

"Three  times,"  responded  Shimba,  sake  having  filled  his 
cup  again — "three  times  I  held  the  Number  Three  marble 
and  won  by  it." 

"For  me  the  lucky  number  is  two  and  two  multiplied — • 
provided  I  play  on  Wednesday.  Here's  to  your  luck, 
Shimba-san !" 

"I  have  promised  to  gamble  no  more,"  declared  Shimba. 

"It  is  a  bad  habit,"  agreed  Mr.  Tanosuke  with  a  serious 
face.  "It  is  a  vice  which  I  never  encourage  in  my  friends, 
and  yet  I  have  lost  nothing  by  it." 

He  raised  a  bediamonded  hand  up  to  his  square  jaw,  a 
silent  gesture  indicating  prosperity. 

From  somewhere  in  the  distance  there  floated  in  a  thin, 
teasing  note.  Some  little  reed  instrument  at  the  mouth  of 
a  Chinese  musician  was  sending  forth  that  tantalizing  call. 
A  gong  sounded — bang,  bang,  bang !  And  then  the  elusive, 
silver  thread  of  melody  floated  above  the  low-lying  streets. 

"Mr.  Fong  Duck,  a  Chinese,  conducts  a  great  business 
here,"  declared  Mr.  Tanosuke,  sipping  daintily  at  his  sake 
cup. 

"They  are  dogs,  these  Chinese,"  responded  Shimba. 

"There  is  a  choice,  even  among  dogs,"  said  Tanosuke. 
"There  is  a  saying,  'Feed  a  dog  three  days  and  he  will 
remember  you  three  years.7  And  this  Fong  Duck  is  less  to 
be  avoided  than  other  Chinese.  It  is  said  to  be  a  privilege 
to  enter  his  establishment." 

Mr.  Tanosuke  shot  his  striped  silk  cuffs  and  sat  up 
straight,  presenting  a  picture  of  majesty  in  miniature. 

"Any  one  can  play  at  Lockport  without  fear  of  arrest," 
suggested  Matsu. 

"Ah,  yes,  but  the  Chinese  there  would  steal  the  mat  from 
your  floor.  Mr.  Fong  Duck  runs  a  club  for  gentlemen." 


AN  HOUR'S  WEAKNESS  79 

Again  the  thin  note  of  music,  poppy  laden,  suggestive, 
sinister,  floated  into  the  small,  hot  room. 

At  the  hour  of  ten  Mr.  Tanosuke  and  his  guests  walked 
cautiously  down  a  darkened  street  under  balconies  from 
which  dim  lanterns  swung.  Shimba's  worldly  guide  was  so 
short  of  stature  that  it  was  no  trouble  at  all  to  look  over 
the  top  of  his  brown  derby.  But  Tanosuke  was  a  man  of 
will,  and  he  took  the  party  in  hand  without  more  ado. 

Distantly  glared  an  electric-lighted  front,  with  an  en 
trance  set  like  an  open  box  facing  the  street.  As  they 
neared  the  spot  Shimba  could  see  on  its  white  panels  many 
bold  Chinese  characters  which  announced  that  here  was 
installed  the  Brotherhood  Mutual  Recreation  Club.  High 
in  a  small  door  at  one  side  appeared  a  grated  window. 

An  elderly  Chinese  slouched  against  one  of  the  posts. 
His  feet  were  crossed,  his  look  was  far  away  as  he  puffed 
daintily  at  his  long-stemmed  tobacco  pipe.  Anybody  but 
an  Eastern  tourist  would  have  recognized  him  as  a  lookout 
and  have  known  that  behind  his  padded  back  there  was  an 
electric  button  and  that  the  hand  he  held  so-  gracefully  con 
cealed  rested  upon  that  button,  acute  to  warn  of  approach 
ing  danger — to  wit,  the  sheriff — at  a  fractional  second's 
notice. 

Mr.  Tanosuke,  leading  his  party,  approached  the  languid 
loiterer. 

"You  sabe  me?"  he  asked  in  pidgin. 

"I  sabe  you,"  responded  the  lookout  with  an  unfriendly 
glare  as  he  gazed  down  upon  Mr.  Tanosuke.  "I  no  sabe 
those  two  man  come  by  you." 

"My  friend,  you  sabe.    They  like  come  see  Fong  Duck." 

The  lookout  eyed  them  narrowly  for  an  instant,  then 
turned  stolidly  and  tapped  his  long  nails  upon  the  grated 
window.  A  panel  slid  back  and  a  face  appeared  behind  the 
bars.  There  were  two  short  words  in  singsong,  then  the 
door  was  opened  narrowly  from  behind.  Tanosuke  and  his 
friends  slid  in  through  the  crack. 


80  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

In  the  smoke-laden  room  upstairs  several  tables  were 
clattering  busily.  A  consumptive  Chinaman,  his  cheeks 
sunken,  his  eyes  staring  from  his  head,  was  throwing  chuck- 
a-luck.  A  fat  Chinaman  presided  at  a  roulette  wheel.  A 
group  in  the  corner  was  playing  faro.  A  yellow  lad  of 
eighteen  sat  cross-legged  on  a  long  bench,  bare  ankles  show 
ing  above  boat-shaped  shoes  as  he  dealt  out  Chinese  domi 
noes.  The  fan-tan  table  at  another  end  of  the  room  was 
the  busiest  of  all.  The  men  in  the  room  were  mostly  Jap 
anese,  though  there  were  a  few  Chinamen  and  several 
black-bearded,  black-turbaned  Sikhs  gazing  on  the  games 
with  their  mysterious  eyes. 

Poor  Shimba,  as  though  drawn  by  invisible  cords,  was 
already  roving  toward  the  fan-tan  table. 

"Remember  how  you  swore  to  keep  away,"  his  partner 
cautioned  him.  But  Matsu  himself  was  a  little  affected  by 
sake  and  the  heady  atmosphere. 

"After  all,  would  it  not  be  well  to  look  on?"  asked  the 
little  fellow  who  had  brought  them  there.  "Gambling  is  a 
curse  to  those  whose  hands  have  lost  their  grip." 

"A  fool  mourns  over  a  lost  sen,"  grunted  Shimba. 

"You  have  said  a  wise  thing,"  agreed  Mr.  Tanosuke, 
tossing  a  silver  dollar  on  the  fan-tan  table.  "I  would  try 
just  once.  Nothing  reckless.  Saturday,  you  remember, 
and  the  lucky  three !" 

Shimba  edged  close  to  the  table  and  leaned  over  the 
black  oilcloth  with  the  Chinese  numerals  one,  two,  three 
and  four  marked  in  gold  at  the  sides.  The  dealer,  con 
fronted  by  a  pile  of  buttons  he  had  just  spilled  from  the 
cup,  was  counting  them  off  with  his  wand ;  four  at  a  time 
they  fell  clattering  into  the  box.  He  was  a  bald  Chinaman 
with  a  green  shade  over  his  eyes,  and  his  wand  brushed 
away  the  buttons  with  the  skill  of  a  magician.  The  black 
slant  eyes  round  the  table  were  focused,  inmovable  as  stone, 
on  the  play  as  the  buttons  fell  away  from  the  pile. 


AN  HOUR'S  WEAKNESS  81 

The  wand  gave  its  final  fateful  sweep.  Two  buttons  lay 
before  the  dealer. 

"Numba  Two  win !"  he  singsonged  in  pidgin  as  he  swept 
away  the  silver  and  currency  from  the  three  unlucky  num 
bers  and  proceeded  to  pay  the  winner  two  to  one. 

"Place  yo'  bets,  gel'men !"  he  challenged  again  as  his  cup 
went  into  the  box  for  another  load  of  buttons. 

Shimba's  work-worn  hand  stole  slyly  into  his  inner 
pocket,  where  he  could  feel  the  bale  of  paper  money  which 
he  had  not  disturbed,  even  for  his  extravagances  at  the 
Bushido.  Blindly  his  fingers  clasped  the  first  rough  edge 
they  came  against.  As  he  extracted  his  hand  from  his 
pocket  a  hundred-dollar  note  came  with  it.  He  thought 
for  an  instant  of  making  change,  but  the  madness  was  on 
him.  He  placed  the  bill  on  Number  Three,  while  many 
pairs  of  sharp  black  eyes  snapped  round  to  catch  sight  of 
this  sporting  millionaire. 

Again  the  wand  went  clicking  buttons  off  into  the  box. 
The  stuffy  room,  smelling  vilely  of  ancient  China,  became 
a  well  of  silence.  Four,  four,  four — the  mound  of  white 
buttons  diminished  to  a  tiny  scattering.  Again  the  wand 
fell.  Three  buttons  lay  before  the  dealer! 

"Numba  Thlee  win !"  singsonged  the  magician. 

Scarcely  taking  the  trouble  to  look  up,  he  counted  out 
two  hundred-dollar  bills  and  handed  them  across  to 
Shimba. 

"Place  yo'  bets,  gel'men!"  he  singsonged. 

Shimba  laid  three  hundred-dollar  bills  on  Number  Three. 
Again  the  wand  went  clicking  among  the  buttons. 


IV 

For  some  two  hours  Shimba  stood  in  a  golden  trance. 
Luck  had  turned  against  him  in  midstream.  Once  he  had 
been  on  the  verge  of  breaking  the  bank — which  stands  at  a 
thousand  dollars — but  the  ancient  gods  of  China  had  en- 


82  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

tered  in  to  do  battle  with  the  upstarts  of  Nippon.  His 
fortune  blew  up  in  an  untidy  crumple  of  hundred-dollar 
bills.  He  had  doubled  his  losses  once  too  often.  Number 
Four  won  again.  Then,  remorse  and  hatred  bitter  in  his 
heart,  he  had  gone  into  his  shabby  pocket  for  his  last 
hundred-dollar  bill,  when  the  expected  happened  in  China 
town. 

Into  the  tensely  silent  atmosphere  a  bell  thrilled  twice — 
a  horrid  sound.  The  sheriff  warning  from  the  lookout  be 
low!  Then  it  was  that  the  most  backward  of  nations 
demonstrated  efficiency.  Working  with  the  speed  of  fire 
laddies,  the  Chinese  crew  flew  to  their  places.  The  roulette 
wheel  was  kicked  behind  a  panel  in  the  wall,  the  fan-tan 
cloth  was  jerked  away  with  all  its  freight  of  wealth.  Into 
a  trap  door  in  the  rear  a  corps  of  Chinese  gamblers,  bearing 
the  guilty  evidence,  stole  away  with  the  rapidity  of  serpents. 
With  equal  speed  a  dozen  of  their  confederates  took  places 
round  a  table  and  assumed  theatrical  poses  expressive  of 
innocence  as  they  settled  themselves  to  a  friendly  game  of 
dominoes.  The  stage  was  set  for  the  sheriff. 

In  the  midst  of  alarms  Shimba  found  himself  being 
pulled  through  a  rear  window  by  his  capable  partner, 
Matsu.  Little  Mr.  Tanosuke  had  disappeared — down  a 
drain  pipe  possibly.  For  the  visitor  from  Ely  there  was  a 
drop  in  the  darkness.  It  wasn't-  far,  and  poor  Shimba,  then 
in  a  suicidal  mood,  cared  nothing  for  life  or  limb. 

At  last,  limping  and  unnerved,  the  refugees  reached  their 
little  car  as  it  lurked  in  the  shadow  of  a  dike. 

"Carry  me  away  from  this  village  of  demons !"  snarled 
Shimba. 

Matsu  at  the  wheel  was  doing  his  best,  but  the  worn 
self-starter,  against  which  his  heel  was  pressed,  gave  forth 
an  empty  grinding  noise,  proclaiming  a  mechanical  break 
down.  Round  the  corner  the  sheriff's  deep  voice  could  be 
heard  in  tones  of  command.  Footsteps  sounded  stealthily 


AN  HOUR'S  WEAKNESS  83 

along  the  dirt-surfaced  street  just  behind  them.  Shimba 
sat  palsied. 

Out  of  the  shadows  a  dwarfish  figure  appeared.  With  a 
frightened  grunt  Shimba  threw  open  a  side  door  and  was 
about  to  scramble  away  into  darkness  and  security  when 
something  about  the  haunting  form  arrested  his  flight.  He 
looked  again,  and  recognized  the  sportively  cut  clothes,  the 
flashing  gems,  the  brown  derby.  It  was  Mr.  Tanosuke. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Shimba!"  the  apparition  exclaimed,  bowing 
low.  "And  Mr.  Matsu!  You  have  escaped  safely,  I  see. 
How  sinful  I  have  been  to  lead  you  into  misfortune !" 

"I  speak  but  the  truth,  Tanosuke-san,"  replied  Shimba, 
throwing  himself  upon  the  mercy  of  the  kindly  adviser 
from  Ely.  "This  Fong  Duck  is  a  very  grasping  man.  Had 
I  given  him  time  he  would  have  taken  my  shirt  also." 

"Ah,  how  I  feel  it  on  my  conscience  that  I  did  not  rescue 
you  from  such  a  thief!"  groaned  Mr.  Tanosuke,  looking 
warily  along  the  dimly  lighted  street.  "But  come!  The 
abominable  sheriff  is  still  nosing  about  like  an  enchanted 
badger.  Tell  me,  Shimba-san,  did  you  not  leave  a  bundle 
at  the  Sons  of  Yamato  restaurant?" 

"To  be  sure  I  did,"  replied  the  financial  ruin  in  gloomy 
tones  as  he  recalled  his  wedding  clothes,  abandoned  in  his 
lust  for  gambling. 

"Suppose  we  adjourn  to  that  place.  It  might  seem  more 
respectable.  Also,  we  might  find  sake  there,  and  a  chance 
to  observe  peace  until  this  abominable  sheriff  is  out  of 
town." 

Round  the  corner  to  the  Sons  of  Yamato  they  stole  like 
specters,  Shimba  scurrying  in  the  rear  as  though  all  the 
foxes  out  of  hell  were  at  his  heels.  Up  the  creaky  stairs 
they  tiptoed,  and  into  the  small  room  where  sake  and  con 
versation  had  already  done  evil  work  for  Shimba. 

Mr.  Tanosuke  closed  the  door  silently;  then  he  opened 
his  silver  cigar  case  and  passed  out  black  perfectos. 

"Shimba-san,"  he  began,  settling  himself  comfortably  by 


84  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

the  table,  "this  evening  weighs  very  heavily  on  my  con 
science.  How  could  I  have  let  you  stray  into  such  tempta 
tion  ?  But  alas !  An  oni  seems  to  hold  him  who  gambles." 

"I  have  lost  everything,"  grunted  Shimba. 

"Yes,  and  what  will  the  directors  of  the  Natural  Energy 
Fruit  and  Land  Company  say  to  you?" 

"Then  you  too  have  heard  how  I  was  to  invest  my 
money?"  asked  Shimba  thickly. 

The  newly  moral  Tanosuke  nodded. 

"You  have  promised  a  holy  bonze  that  you  would  gamble 
no  more.  And  you  have  given  your  word  to  Mr.  Akagashi, 
of  the  drug  store,  that  the  money  should  be  invested.  What 
will  you  do,  Shimba-san?" 

The  farmer  sat,  his  bullet  head  bowed  over  the  table. 

"Allow  my  humbleness  to  befriend  you,"  implored  the 
kind-voiced  gentleman.  "I  could  not  see  you  disgraced  be 
fore  men  for  this  idle  evening's  folly.  Let  me  find  a  way 
out  for  you.  Would  you  feel  more  secure,  Shimba-san,  if 
I  should  arrange  you  a  loan  ?" 

"A  loan!" 

Shimba  raised  his  head. 

"Quite  a  substantial  one.  The  amount  of  your  loss 
would  be  a  detail — any  amount  more  than  that.  Interest? 
Interest  would  be  forgotten  if  I  spoke  the  word !  I  hate  to 
see  one  about  to  begin  a  new  family  so  out  of  luck — and 
by  a  fault  which  I  could  almost  call  my  own." 

"What  would  this  loan  be?"  asked  the  friendly  Matsu, 
speaking  for  his  dumb  partner. 

"You,  too,  might  benefit  by  this,  Matsu-san,"  suggested 
Mr.  Tanosuke,  his  look  of  benevolence  growing.  "Such  a 
loan  you  might  be  able  to  pay  off  by  service.  No  cash 
required.  My  business  brings  me  close  to  many  matters  of 
finance.  Have  you  time  to  listen?" 

Matsu  leaned  far  over  the  table  to  catch  every  word  from 
Tanosuke's  wizard  lips.  Shimba  sat  like  one  dazed  while 
the  representative  of  worldly  wisdom  outlined  his  plan. 


CHAPTER  VII:    THE  OTISUKIS 


WHEN  Baron  Tazumi  promised  to  introduce  to  Anna 
Bly  his  friends  in  San  Francisco  he  made  no  vain 
promise,  as  was  quickly  proved  when  her  party  had  set  foot 
in  So  Ko,  the  Mulberry  Port,  which  the  long-haired  ones 
call  San  Francisco.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  Otisuki  called 
at  her  hotel  an  hour  after  she  had  registered.  She  went 
down  to  the  reception  room  to  meet  them,  and  found  there 
a  benevolent,  elderly,  bulky  Japanese  in  a  ceremonious 
cutaway  coat.  He  had  a  frank  and  hearty  manner  and  the 
brusqueness  of  a  successful  American  business  man. 

It  was  not  until  he  had  introduced  Mrs.  Otisuki  that 
Anna  realized  the  importance  of  her  visitors.  Mr.  Otisuki, 
she  recollected  in  a  flash,  was  no  less  a  person  than  the 
brilliant  land  speculator  who  had  controlled  the  California 
bean  market  for  several  seasons  and  was  rated  as  one  of 
the  wealthiest  Orientals  in  the  New  World ;  less  successful 
than  Mr.  George  Shima,  perhaps,  but  undeniably  a  grandee 
of  importance. 

Mrs.  Otisuki,  short,  plump  and  pretty,  with  the  beautiful 
complexion  which  the  ladies  of  her  race  often  possess,  wore 
enormous  pearls  in  her  ears,  and  over  her  shoulders  a 
smartly  cut  coat  of  mole.  She  bobbed  and  smiled  daintily, 
showing  perfect  teeth,  at  every  word  that  was  said.  But  to 
the  conversation  she  contributed  nothing,  preferring  appar 
ently  to  sit  in  the  background  and  surrender  the  floor  to 
her  rightful  lord. 

Tazumi  was  a  good  fellow,  declared  Mr.  Otisuki  in  his 
brusque  and  hearty  way — something  of  an  altruist,  but  a 


86  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

good  fellow.  He  had  sent  word  that  Mrs.  Ely  was  to  see 
a  little  of  the  California  Japanese  just  to  show  her  that 
they  didn't  wear  kimonos  in  the  street  and  sing  snatches 
from  "The  Mikado,"  as  most  Easterners  supposed. 
Wouldn't  Mrs.  Ely  come  out  to  Piedmont  and  take  potluck 
with  them?  After  a  trip  across  the  continent  she  must  be 
hungry  for  a  bite  of  home  cooking. 

"Oh,  yes,  do  come!"  squeaked  Mrs.  Otisuki  in  the  voice 
of  a  child  who  has  rehearsed  her  small  part  in  a  play. 

"And  won't  Miss  Brand  come  too?"  urged  Otisuki. 
"Our  daughters  are  mighty  anxious  to  meet  you  both  after 
such  grand  send-off  Tazumi  sent  in  advance.  We  don't 
put  on  some  dog  round  our  place.  Just  come  plain  clothes 
— better  prepare  to  stay  for  night.  Or  we  like  to  put  you 
up  at  our  place  as  long  as  you  in  this  section." 

His  hospitality  was  truly  overwhelming.  Mr.  Otisuki 
was  quite  evidently  the  social  head  of  the  house.  He  had 
but  to  suggest  and  there  issued  from  the  cherry  lips  of  Mrs. 
Otisuki  assentive  staccato  chirpings. 

Almost  without  hesitation  Anna  accepted  the  invitation 
both  for  herself  and  Zudie.  Indeed,  she  was  touched  by 
this  yet  another  instance  of  Tazumi's  thoughtfulness.  Four 
o'clock  found  Anna  and  her  sister  seating  themselves  in  the 
comfort  of  the  Otisukis'  velvet-cushioned  car,  while  its 
hospitable  owners  made  place  for  them  and  the  big  machine 
headed  smoothly  down  Market  Street  toward  the  Ferry 
Depot. 


11 


Among  the  sweet  green  hills  of  Piedmont  they  came  at 
last  upon  a  handsome  house  of  pink  stucco,  built  Spanish 
style,  with  elaborate  wrought-iron  balconies  and  splendid 
grille  work  at  the  entrance  door.  This  was  the  place  where 
they  were  to  take  potluck — no  style — as  Mr.  Otisuki  had 
so  jauntily  put  it.  A  Japanese  footman  in  American  dress 


THE  OTISUKIS  87 

clothes  bowed  them  into  the  handsome  entrance  hall. 
Somewhere,  not  far  distant,  a  rich-toned  piano  was  sound 
ing  in  skillful  runs  and  an  illusive  strain  tantalized  Anna's 
memory.  The  Scheherazade  suite!  Glancing  curiously 
into  the  music  room  beyond,  Anna  beheld  the  pianist,  a 
young  Japanese  girl,  her  shoulders  swaying  above  the  key 
board,  her  eyes  bent  studiously  upon  the  music  rack. 

A  Swedish  maid,  fastidiously  uniformed,  showed  them 
to  their  rooms — nicely  paneled  apartments  with  French 
engravings  on  the  walls.  At  half  past  seven  the  ladies,  who 
had  changed  to  simple  dinner  frocks,  came  down  to  be  in 
troduced  to  the  rest  of  Mr.  Otisuki's  happy  family.  The 
eldest  daughter  had  been  recently  married  to  a  Mr.  Honda, 
a  middle-aged  banker,  whose  swollen,  brownish  face  sug 
gested  innumerable  bee  stings.  Miss  Genevieve  Otisuki 
was  nineteen,  slender  and  delicate  of  figure,  and  she  wore 
her  clothes  with  the  air  of  a  Parisienne. 

There  were  cocktails  before  dinner,  and  when  the  party 
sat  down  in  the  dignified  tapestried  dining-room  Anna  had 
a  feeling  of  disappointment  at  the  sight  of  handsome 
crystal  and  gold  plate.  She  had  so  hoped  for  a  taste  of 
Japanese  food  as  it  might  be  served  by  a  yellow  grandee 
of  California. 

"Oh,  no,  none  of  that  nonsense  here!"  chuckled  Mr. 
Otisuki  when  she  voiced  the  suggestion.  "Raw  fish  and 
noodles — back  to  the  Middle  Ages !  If  I  should  been  able 
to  eat  food  better  than  rice  when  I  was  boy  I  might  have 
grown  to  be  quite  tall.  Just  look  at  Oki  over  there." 

Anna  glanced  toward  a  very  fashionable  young  man  who 
was  at  that  moment  making  himself  agreeable  to  Zudie. 
When  she  had  been  introduced  to  him  he  had  snapped  out 
a  large  business  card  plainly  printed  with  the  words,  "S. 
Oki,  representing  Beneficent  Society,  Ely,  California." 

"They  caught  him  early  and  made  an  American  out  of 
him.  Look  at  his  legs!" 

Cheerfully  would  Anna  have  done  so  had  not  the  inter- 


88  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

esting  members  been  hidden  under  Mr.  Otisuki's  lace  table 
cloth. 

"Straight  as  a  string!"  went  on  her  host.  "No  squatting 
on  mats  for  him!  He  was  raised  up  on  beefsteak  and 
baseball." 

"Don't  you  admire  Japan?"  asked  Anna,  truly  surprised 
by  this  unexpected  point  of  view. 

"Japan?  What  do  I  know  about  it?  I  been  American 
for  thirty-five  years.  Of  course  you  read  much  tommyrot 
about  citizenship.  What  difference  does  that  make?  Don't 
I  own  land  here  and  run  two  or  three  banks  and  deal  in 
the  stock  exchange  ?  Don't  I  have  children  to  vote  for  me  ? 
Don't  I  send  my  eldest  boy  to  Sheffield  Scientific  School 
and  my  youngest  daughter  to  Berkeley?  My  daughter 
Katherine  married  Japanese,  yes,  but  Honda  is  just  Ameri 
can  like  I  am." 

Mr.  Otisuki  urged  her  to  taste  the  Rhine  wine  which  a 
servant  had  poured  into  her  tall  glass. 

"Napa  Valley  wine,"  Otisuki  informed  her.  "Can't  find 
better  in  the  world.  But,  of  course,  Congress  has  settled 
wine.  Congress  is  always  settling  things,  isn't  it,  Mrs. 
Ely?" 

He  made  this  last  sally  with  an  amiable  wink  as  he  drank 
heartily. 

"It  seems  strange  to  me,  I  must  confess,"  persisted  Anna, 
inspired  to  boldness  by  .his  open  manner,  "that  you  have 
no  curiosity  to  see  your  own  country  again.  Its  wonderful 
progress — I  should  think  that  would  interest  anybody." 

"Oh,  you  think  so?"  His  voice  was  harsher  than 
Tazumi's,  but  it  had  the  same  effect  of  a  virile  bass  playing 
against  polite  falsettos.  "Japan!  She  will  get  along  all 
right,  I  guess.  She  has  made  a  jump — so  has  the  rest  of 
world.  A  hundred  years  ago  she  had  no  telephones. 
Neither  did  America  or  other  places.  Japan  not  so  wonder 
ful.  Sometime  it  bor^s  me  to  think  I  was  born  in  such  a 
place." 


THE  OTISUKIS  89 

After  dinner  Anna  and  Zudie  found  themselves  stranded 
in  the  drawing-room  with  the  ladies  of  the  party — stranded 
they  were  indeed,  for  Mrs.  Otisuki  agreed  to  everything 
with  a  little  peeping  giggle,  while  the  other  Japanese  ladies 
did  little  better  in  the  way  of  carrying  on  conversation. 
Anna  found  herself  conducting  a  monologue,  and  when 
she  paused  polite  silence  prevailed,  just  as  though  her  pleas 
ant  listeners  were  waiting  for  her  to  go  on. 

Finally  she  found  a  place  next  to  Miss  Genevieve 
Otisuki,  who  was  looking  over  some  music  in  a  corner. 
Miss  Genevieve  furnished  a  refreshing  contrast  to  her 
elders.  She  was  frank  and  independent,  with  all  the  slang 
and  bravado  of  an  American  college  girl. 

"I  graduate  next  year,"  she  explained,  "if  I  don't  flunk 
in  math.  I'm  perfectly  rotten  at  figures,  but  Dad  insists 
on  my  knowing  mathematics.  All  I  care  for  is  my  music. 
I'm  teasing  Dad  to  send  me  to  the  Boston  Conservatory, 
but  he  has  a  lot  of  old-fashioned  notions  about  my  getting 
married  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

"I  was  independent,  too,  when  I  was  your  age,"  smiled 
Anna. 

"I'm  going  to  marry  just  whom  I  please  or  be  an  old 
maid,"  declared  the  freedom-loving  Miss  Otisuki.  Then 
with  a  look  of  peculiar  intentness :  "And  it  won't  be  a 
Japanese  either." 

Anna  sat  wordless  and  embarrassed  before  this  candid 
statement  from  one  of  a  race  which  she  had  always  re 
garded  as  secretive  and  reserved. 

"What's  the  use  of  my  being  different?"  she  went  on. 
"I  don't  care  anything  about  the  Japanese.  I'm  an  Ameri 
can  citizen." 

"Don't  you  ever  want  to  see  Japan  ?"  asked  Anna. 

"Why  should  I?"  The  dark  eyes  widened.  "There's 
nothing  I  want  there.  I've  almost  persuaded  mother  to 
take  me  to  Paris  as  soon  as  things  are  better  over  there. 
I'm  crazy  about  Paris;  aren't  you?" 


90  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

It  was  late  in  the  evening,  and  Miss  Genevieve  was  per 
forming  brilliantly  at  the  piano  when  the  gentlemen  re 
joined  their  group.  Soon  after  Mr.  Otisuki's  guests  dis 
persed  for  the  night. 

"I  am  working  among  my  people  at  Ely.  Small  post, 
but  quite  interesting.  If  there  is  anything  of  interest  you 
would  like  to  see  in  San  Francisco,"  volunteered  the  affable 
Mr.  Oki,  standing  straight  and  trim  on  his  superior  legs  as 
he  shook  hands  with  Anna  and  her  sister,  "please  depend 
upon  me.  Or  may  I  have  the  pleasure  of  calling  at  your 
hotel  with  my  car?" 

His  thoughtfulness  was  delightful,  and  Anna  told  him 
so  as  she  bade  him  good  night. 


in 

During  their  five  days'  stay  in  the  Mulberry  Port,  which 
the  long-haired  ones  call  San  Francisco,  the  Brand  sisters 
were  feted  to  a  point  where  they  began  to  feel  more  like 
visiting  royalty  than  humble  farmers  about  to  plunge  into 
an  unknown  frontier.  The  affable  Mr.  Oki,  who  was  no 
giant  in  spite  of  his  superior  legs,  proved  true  to  his  prom 
ise.  He  appeared  with  an  overcoat  and  a  runabout  of 
equally  sportive  pattern  and  invited  Mrs.  Ely  and  Miss 
Brand  for  a  spin  round  the  Presidio  drives. 

He  spoke  English  very  well  and  American  slang  even 
better.  As  the  pine-clad  fortifications  reeled  by  them  and 
they  threaded  a  perfect  road  above  the  Golden  Gate  their 
pleasant  guide  seemed  inclined  to  indulge  in  jokes  at  the 
expense  of  the  Otisuki  family. 

"Strange  bird,  don't  you  think?"  he  chuckled.  "Always 
running  down  Japan — quite  a  fad  with  Otisuki." 

"He  must  be  a  man  of  great  ability,"  said  Anna. 

"Very  live  wire,"  agreed  S.  Oki.  "He  does  quite  well, 
considering  the  slum  of  Nagasaki  where  he  came  up  from. 
Otisuki,  you  understand,  is  a  narikin." 


THE  OTISUKIS  91 

"A  what  ?"  inquired  the  Brand  sisters  in  one  breath. 

"Excuse  the  vulgar  Japanese  word,"  apologized  Mr.  Oki. 
"That  word  is  our  slang.  It  has  been  invented  since  this 
Great  War,  and  it  means — what?  Let  me  try  to  interpret. 
It  means  something  like  a  parvenu — get  rich  rapidly — 
profiteer.  That  and  several  more  things.  It  means  anxiety 
to  spend  and  jump  into  a  better  class." 

"And  Mr.  Otisuki  is  all  that?"  laughed  Zudie. 

"Oh,  yes !    But  a  good  fellow." 

Mr.  Oki  changed  the  subject  to  Bly.  He  had  work  there, 
he  explained,  looking  after  the  mutual  interests  of  the 
Americans  and  the  Japanese. 

"And  I  hope  I  shall  have  a  chance  to  be  of  service,"  he 
volunteered  when  the  drive  was  over  and  he  was  helping 
them  out  at  the  door  of  their  hotel. 

On  Wednesday  night  they  were  invited  to  dine  at  the 
Japanese  consulate,  where,  as  it  turned  out,  several  mem 
bers  of  the  American  expedition  about  to  visit  Nippon  as 
guests  of  the  Mikado  were  being  entertained.  Senator  Jas- 
comb,  the  Reverend  Doctor  Greet  and  the  world-celebrated 
financier,  Ignatius  Kohl,  sat  at  the  consul  general's  long 
table,  already  glowing  with  enthusiasm  for  the  island  king 
dom  they  were  about  to  see. 

The  table  had  been  set  Japanese  fashion,  with  many 
dishes  on  square,  black-lacquered  trays  before  each  chair. 
Upon  the  central  saucer  of  each  tray  a  fairyland  garden 
flourished.  Radishes  cut  to  resemble  peonies  were  stuck  on 
the  twigs  of  a  lupine  stalk  which  had  been  planted  in  a 
mound  of  edible  seaweed.  At  the  foot  of  this  tiny  island 
pinkish  slices  of  raw  fish  were  arranged  to  imitate  ocean 
waves.  The  soup,  too,  was  esthetic,  glistening  like  an 
amber  pool  with  lily  pads  and  sea  anemones  floating  in 
its  depths. 

"They  make  everything  beautiful,"  said  the  Reverend 
Doctor  Greet,  his  face  bent  toward  his  artistic  food,  "and 
I  am  looking  forward  to  my  visit  among  the  people  of  a 


92  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

great  race  who  have  learned  so  much  better  from  us  than 
we  have  learned  from  them." 

Mr.  Kohl,  the  financier,  was  much  heartier  in  his  expres 
sions  than  he  had  been  after  the  banquet  in  New  York.  He 
raised  his  glass  to  toast  the  Mikado  and  to  swear  that  a 
better  understanding  between  the  two  great  nations  would 
still  forever  the  senseless  clamor  now  being  raised  along  the 
Pacific  Coast.  Senator  Jascomb's  warm  applause,  as  well 
as  his  agreement  with  Marquis  Ishii  on  the  subject  of  the 
Monroe  Doctrine  in  the  Far  East,  showed  well  enough 
where  his  sympathies  were  drifting. 

Anna  went  home  that  night  filled  with  a  comfortable  feel 
ing  that  the  strong  men  of  America  and  Japan  were  stand 
ing  behind  the  unthinking  herd,  directing  them  wisely  out 
of  the  shoals  of  passion  and  into  the  serene  waters  of  a  per 
manent  peace. 

iv 

They  planned  to  stay  in  San  Francisco  until  Monday. 
It  was  Saturday  morning,  and  Anna  was  on  the  most  com 
monplace  of  errands  when  she  gained  another  glimpse  of 
the  Orient  in  America;  and  it  was  a  picture  which  fixed 
itself  in  her  memory  during  her  subsequent  adventures  with 
transplanted  Asia. 

The  Chronicle  had  advertised  a  sale  of  children's  under 
wear  in  a  Market  Street  department  store;  and  Anna,  re 
membering  that  she  was  the  thrifty  mother  of  growing 
children,  went.  Once  inside,  she  loitered,  as  even  the  most 
sensible  woman  will,  among  the  labyrinthine  counters  and 
their  display  of  silks,  stockings,  gloves,  ribbons  and  silver 
ware.  Without  the  slightest  intention  of  buying,  she  lin 
gered  over  a  pile  of  shirt  waists,  when  her  eye  was 
attracted  by  a  quaint  picture. 

A  little  figurine  of  a  woman  sat  straight  and  haughty  on 
a  swivel  stool  in  front  of  the  counter.  The  tips  of  her 
daintily  shod  toes  barely  touched  the  floor,  but  there  was 


THE  OTISUKIS  93 

about  her  none  of  that  squattiness  which  so  often  spoils  the 
Japanese  woman  to  Occidental  eyes.  She  was  dressed  with 
exquisite  taste,  the  simple  lines  of  her  tailored  suit  fitting 
closely  to  her  supple  figure.  A  slender  pillar  of  a  neck,  soft 
and  smooth  as  the  apricot,  which  it  resembled  in  color, 
stood  proudly  up  from  a  collar  of  fine  needlework  and  sup 
ported  a  delicate  little  head  with  the  most  piquant,  elfin 
face  in  all  the  world.  The  eyes  were  long  and  slitlike,  the 
brows  turned  up  at  the  corners  like  little  wings,  the  mouth 
a  rosebud  dot  of  color. 

Behind  the  tiny  princess  a  heavy,  stodgy  Japanese 
woman  with  an  enormous  face  stood  immovable,  never 
taking  her  eyes  from  her  companion.  Anna  was  fixed  to 
the  spot,  so  great  was  her  curiosity.  What  were  the  rela 
tions  between  the  fairylike  being  and  the  clumsy  Japanese 
woman?  How  prettily  the  little  fingers,  slender  as  reeds, 
picked  up  each  trifle  of  lace  as  the  long  eyes  looked  down 
witR  Asiatic  languor !  She  could  be  no  woman  of  flesh  and 
blood.  Even  in  her  American  clothes  she  was  like  some 
porcelain  statuette  of  the  Ming  dynasty. 

Long  before  Anna  had  satisfied  her  curiosity  the  Jap 
anese  woman  made  a  motion  which  was  surprising  as  it 
was  sudden.  She  laid  a  stubby  hand  on  one  of  the  slender 
shoulders.  Without  a  look  to  left  or  right  the  Ming  statu 
ette  came  to  a  standing  posture.  In  spite  of  her  high  heels 
she  was  less  than  five  feet  tall.  The  ugly  companion  opened 
her  purse  and  handed  a  bill  to  the  shopgirl,  and  as  soon  as 
change  and  her  bundle  were  presented  to  her  she  gave  a 
sullen  gesture  which  sent  the  dainty  vision  on  her  way. 
The  burly  manageress  followed  a  few  feet  behind. 

Anna  drew  a  long  breath  as  the  two  disappeared  into  the 
crowd. 

"I  never  saw  such  a  lovely  Japanese  before,"  she  said 
to  the  shopgirL 

"The  little  one,  you  mean?"  asked  the  girl.  "She's  no 
Jap.  She's  a  Korean.  And  say,  I  think  she  must  be  dotty 


94  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

in  the  head  or  something !  Never  takes  a  step  without  that 
big  Jap  comes  tagging  along,  telling  her  where  to  stand  or 
sit  down.  It  gives  me  the  creeps." 

Anna  wasted  just  an  instant  in  speculation.  What  trade 
wind  had  blown  this  lovely  curio  into  port?  What  did 
she  stand  for  but  the  picture  of  an  ancient  race  enslaved, 
in  bondage  forevermore  to  the  strong  brown  people  whom 
the  gods  had  chosen  to  endure? 

It  was  noon  when  Anna  returned  to  her  hotel.  She 
found  a  telegram  awaiting  her  in  the  letter  box.  When 
she  opened  it  she  read  the  long  day  letter  which  was  to 
speed  her  upon  the  final  stage  of  her  journey: 

"Hope  you  have  made  the  trip  comfortably  and  enjoyed 
San  Francisco.  Please  don't  go  by  train  to  Sacramento, 
as  you  will  find  the  journey  tiresome.  My  car  will  be  wait 
ing  at  your  hotel  Monday  morning.  Be  so  kind  as  to  accept 
its  services  as  far  as  your  farm.  Best  wishes  to  you  all. 

"TAZUMI." 

Before  breakfast  Monday  morning  Baron  Tazumi's  car 
was  announced.  Was  there  an  end  to  this  good  man's  in 
fluence  or  to  his  thoughtfulness  for  his  friends? 


CHAPTER  VIII:    FIRST  GLIMPSES 


BLOSSOM  time  in  California.  Whirled  over  smooth- 
surfaced  roads  in  the  handsome  car  which  had  been 
furnished  them  as  by  magic,  the  little  party  passed  the  miles 
and  miles  of  cultivated  acres  which  hardy  pioneers — 
Yankees,  Scots  and  Irishmen — had  reclaimed  from  sage 
and  chaparral  less  than  a  half  century  before.  Gold  and 
emerald,  emerald  and  gold!  In  every  neglected  corner,  on 
every  railroad  embankment,  hillock  or  ravine  poppies  raised 
their  golden  cups,  each  supplicating  its  little  share  of  morn 
ing  sunshine.  Under  the  bridges  the  heavenly  carpet  of 
green  was  wrought  in  golden  diagrams  by  myriad  millions 
of  low-lying  flowers. 

Tierra  del  oro,  the  land  of  gold!  What  abundance  was 
here  for  the  people  of  the  earth;  what  a  limitless  empire 
of  plenty!  Sunburned  Californians  paused  at  their  har 
rows  to  watch  them  pass.  They  were  tall,  muscular  men, 
whose  good-natured  faces  reflected  hearty  living,  prosperity 
and  tolerance.  Even  the  men  grew  larger  here,  reflected 
Anna,  gazing  through  the  baron's  plate-glass  window. 

A  covey  of  fat  quail,  the  males  bobbing  their  plume- 
crested  heads,  scurried  across  the  road.  Short-tailed 
meadow  larks,  ere  their  bright  wings  flashed  toward  heaven, 
played  on  silver  pipes,  until  the  air  seemed  all  a-sparkle 
with  notes  brilliant  as  the  sunshine. 

"Who  can  help  being  happy  here?"  asked  Zudie,  and  as 
she  turned  to  her  sister  her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

Kipps,  bored  with  female  society,  had  elected  to  sit  in 

95 


96  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

front  with  the  yellow  chauffeur,  who  managed  the  car  with 
such  perfect  skill  that  the  engine's  breathing  never  rose 
above  a  purr.  Little  Nan  wriggled  from  place  to  place, 
obsessing  poor  Susan  Skelley  with  a  constant  fear  that  the 
door  might  suddenly  fly  open  and  the  child  be  dashed  to  an 
angel's  career.  California  thus  far  had  added  nothing  to 
the  happiness  of  Susan  Skelley. 

"It's  a  wild  man's  country,"  she  complained,  her  dark 
eyes  glowing  melancholy  out  of  her  meager  face.  "An*  ef 
ye  don't  watch  out  the  children'll  be  ragin'  like  wolves 
amongst  the  trees.  An'  what's  that  Chinee  doin'  dhrivin' 
the  car-r-r?" 

"He's  a  Japanese/'  Anna  informed  her,  lowering  her 
voice  lest  the  man  should  hear. 

"Japanee,  is  ut?  Whatever  his  breed,  there's  no  good  in 
a  yella  face.  And  it's  enough  o'  thim  pig-tailed  divvuls  I 
seen  this  week  to  spoil  me  nose  forever  wit'  th'  smell  o' 
josh  sticks." 

The  storm  died  out  in  a  series  of  rumbles,  as  it  always 
did,  and  Susan  took  the  rest  of  her  journey  in  grim  silence. 
Susan  was  no  anthropologist.  To  her  mind  the  races  of 
men  were  divided  into  three  compartments — Chinese, 
"Naygers"  and  Christians.  And  to  this  belief  she  will 
adhere  even  unto  the  end  of  her  days,  which,  God  willing, 
may  be  many. 

On  a  winding  road  above  the  teeming  river  they  hung 
like  passengers  in  an  airship.  Below  them  gray-coated 
destroyers  passed  slowly  upstream  toward  the  government 
shipyard  at  Mare  Island.  The  moving  waters,  muddy 
brown  from  the  winter  rains,  seemed  to  proclaim  in  swell 
ing  pride  the  richness  of  the  soil  that  had  discolored  them. 
Powerful  motor  trucks,  going  forth  with  lumber  and  steel, 
returning  with  heavy  loads  of  crated  garden  produce, 
passed  them  continually  on  the  road. 

What  an  empire!  And  Anna  Bly,  in  all  her  sheltered 
years,  had  never  even  dreamed  of  its  existence. 


FIRST  GLIMPSES  97 

ii 

They  lunched  at  Sacramento,  and  were  again  on  the 
road  to  Utopia.  Flat  fields  now  stretched  toward  the  white 
Sierras,  and  on  almost  every  acre  little  groups  of  squatty 
men  and  women  hoed  along  the  rows.  There  were  usually 
four  people  to  a  group,  two  men  and  two  women.  The  men 
wore  lop-brimmed  hats  of  coarse  straw,  the  women  were 
almost  hid  beneath  sunbonnets  so  enormous  that  they  seemed 
to  fall  like  capes  halfway  down  their  work-bent  bodies. 

Sometimes  these  sets  of  four  would  pause  and  look  up 
from  their  slow  battle  against  weeds.  Their  faces,  flat, 
broad  and  brownish  yellow,  were  perfectly  expressionless. 

When  Tazumi's  chauffeur  had  turned  his  car  into  a  con- 
tributary  road  and  threaded  among  the  farms  some  twenty 
minutes  he  slowed  his  speed  and  came  to  a  halt. 

"I  guess  maybe  wrong  place,"  he  apologized,  grinning 
and  touching  his  cap. 

Susan  Skelley  grunted. 

"Didn't  you  turn  at  the  Somerset  Road?"  asked  Anna, 
after  she  had  consulted  her  little  guide  map. 

"I  think  maybe  you  ask  somebody,"  suggested  the  man, 
and  touched  his  cap  again. 

They  were  standing  in  front  of  a  weather-beaten  farm 
house.  In  the  rear  a  Santa  Clara  windmill  turned  slowly 
in  the  gentle  breeze  and  creaked  as  it  turned.  Chickens 
were  picking  among  the  weeds  in  the  front  yard.  Four 
fanleaf  palms  stood  stiff  and  ugly  in  a  weedy  lawn.  The 
jig-sawed  porch  was  a-riot  with  climbing  flowers.  As  they 
turned  into  the  rutted  adobe  drive  Anna  was  aware  of  a 
woman  singing  somewhere  among  the  outhouses. 

A  Valkyr  of  a  woman  with  tousled  blond  hair  and 
large  bare  arms  came  swinging  up  the  path,  a  feed  pail 
in  her  good  /right  hand.  She  smiled  pleasantly  when 
she  saw  them,  but  her  smile  faded  at  sight  of  the  man 
at  the  wheel. 


98  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"Nice  day,"  she  said,  brushing  back  her  yellow  hair  as 
she  came  slowly  up  to  the  running  board. 

"Isn't  it  heavenly?"  agreed  Anna.  "We're  quite  strangers 
in  this  part  of  the  world,  and  we  seem  to  be  lost." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  was  the  woman's  natural  ques 
tion. 

"To  a  farm  near  Ely,"  answered  Anna. 

The  woman  looked  at  her  curiously  for  an  instant,  then 
said:  "Well,  you  are  lost  for  sure.  This  is  the  Williver 
Road.  What  you  want's  the  Somerset  Road,  two  beyond 
this,  off  the  highway." 

"Thank  you  ever  so  much,"  said  Anna,  and  was  about 
to  give  instructions  to  the  chauffeur  when  the  woman's 
voice,  raised  a  key,  broke  in. 

"It  does  seem  queer  for  any  white  folks  to  be  going  to 
Bly." 

"Really?"  Anna  raised  her  eyebrows.  "Is  there  any 
reason  for  not  going  there  ?" 

"Maybe  not."  The  plump,  pretty  face  seemed  to  narrow 
to  a  look  of  hostility.  "Tastes  differ — even  in  California." 

Anna  opened  her  eyes  with  a  new  curiosity.  It  was  race 
hatred  which  seared  the  woman's  face. 

"Just  what  is  this  prejudice  against  the  Japanese?"  she 
asked. 

"Did  you  ever  try  living  with  a  lot  of  Japs  ?" 

"No.    But  I've  known  a  great  many,  and  I  like  them." 

"I  guess  so."  The  woman  turned  her  cold  blue  eyes 
toward  the  pump  where  Tazumi's  chauffeur  was  drawing 
himself  a  glass  of  water.  "I  guess  so,"  repeated  she. 
"You've  never  been  drove  to  distraction  by  the  yellow  pests 
and  forced  off  your  farm,  from  pillar  to  post." 

"How  in  the  world  can  Japanese  force  you  off  your 
farms?"  asked  Anna,  retaining  her  patience.  "The  whites 
outnumber  them  twenty  to  one  in  this  state." 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  when  they  live  on  a  handful 
of  rice  a  day  and  work  their  wives  and  children  from  dawn 


FIRST  GLIMPSES  99 

to  dark?  How's  a  white  family  going  to  live  alongside  of 
them?" 

"You  earn  just  as  much  as  you  did  before,  don't  you?" 
was  Anna's  handy  argument. 

"Huh !" 

The  woman's  eyes  were  blazing  as  she  turned  and  beck 
oned  to  an  old  man  who  came  shuffling  down  the  drive  be 
hind  a  span  of  work  horses. 

"Pa !"  she  shrilled,  and  as  soon  as  the  old  man  had  aban 
doned  the  reins  and  come  within  talking  distance,  "Maybe 
he  can  tell  you  why."  Then  turning  to  the  old  man:  "Pa, 
these  ladies  want  to  know  what  you  think  of  the  Japs." 

"Japs!"  creaked  the  farmer,  removing  a  short  pipe  from 
his  crooked  mouth  as  he  scowled  up  at  the  strangers. 
"They're  buyin'  us  on  the  one  hand  and  sellin'  us  on  the 
other,  that's  what!" 

"But  why  should  you  let  them  buy  you  out?" 

"Why  should  we  let  the  blight  git  into  our  trees?"  he 
drawled  vindictively.  "Lousy  pests,  they  jest  come !  And 
see  them  land  speculators — callin'  'emselves  white!  Look 
at  me,  lady!  For  twenty  years  I  farmed  a  nice  strip  down 
by  the  delta — sparrow-grass  down  by  the  river  and  fruit 
above.  What  happens  there?  So-called  white  man  comes 
along,  refuses  to  renew  my  lease  on  the  good  ground,  sends 
me  up  to  the  skinny  orchards  if  I  want  to  rent — otherwise 
I  git  out.  So  out  I  got,  and  here  I  am." 

"Why  did  the  owner  prefer  to  lease  to  Japanese?"  asked 
Anna. 

"Why?"  He  took  off  his  hat  and  scratched  his  head. 
"He  was  a  business  man,  I  guess.  I  couldn't  afford  to  put 
up  the  price  them  yeller  devils  did." 

"Can  they  make  more  out  of  the  land  than  you  can  ?" 

"When  your  wife's  a  work  horse  you  can  do  a  lot,"  was 
his  unsatisfactory  answer.  "Dawn  to  dark,  dark  to  dawn, 
them's  the  Jap  working  hours.  The  American's  an  eight- 


100  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

hour  man,  the  Jap's  a  sixteen-hour  man.  An'  we  don't 
want  'em !  An'  we  won't  have  'em !" 

Anna  read  into  these  remarks  a  certain  influence  of  the 
state  legislature  so  conveniently  at  hand. 

"If  you  didn't  like  your  farm  on  the  delta,"  she  sug 
gested,  "weren't  there  other  places  to  farm?" 

"Lots  of  'em,"  he  agreed  with  a  bitter  smile.  His  daugh 
ter,  too,  laughed  aloud.  "There's  this  hole,  for  instance.  I 
didn't  have  no  trouble  leasin'  here.  Because  why?  Be 
cause  the  Japs  was  done  with  it,  that's  why!  They  leased 
it  for  three  years,  skinned  the  soil,  watered  it  white  with 
intensive  irrigation,  got  rich  and  moved  on.  'Much  obliged,' 
says  they,  'and  now  one  of  you  white  devils  is  welcome  to 
what's  left.' " 

He  winked  significantly  with  his  rheumy  left  eye  and 
spatted  his  pipe  against  his  palm.  Anna  glanced  across 
his  orchards.  The  place,  no  doubt,  looked  poor  and  neg 
lected.  She  wished  she  could  tell  him  what  she  thought 
of  Caucasians  who  would  see  themselves  usurped  from 
their  homelands  by  the  superior  industry  of  another  race. 

Instead  she  asked,  "Are  the  Japanese  still  leasing  the 
property  you  left  in  the  delta?" 

"Leasing  it?  Oh,  no,  they  own  it  now.  Flowery  Joss 
Stick  Association  got  behind  it  in  the  name  of  a  lot  of  little 
Japs  born  in  the  state.  If  you  don't  believe  it,  take  an 
auto  trip  out  there  and  look  at  the  yeller  devils  gittin'  rich 
off  what  I  planted  with  my  own  hands." 

"I'm  sorry  you  have  to  think  that  way,"  said  Anna,  sig 
naling  Tazumi's  chauffeur  to  be  moving. 

"I'm  glad  you're  sorry,"  replied  the  farmer,  resuming 
his  scowl.  "Rich  folks  can  live  in  the  Palace  Hotel  and 
run  their  ranches  by  telegraph.  That's  all  right.  But  for 
me,  I'd  sweep  the  hull  nest  of  them  Japs  into  the  Pacific, 
where  they  come  from " 

"Good-by,"  smiled  Anna.    "And  I'm  very  much  obliged." 

"Perfectly  welcome,"  replied  the  stony  lips  of  the  Valkyr. 


FIRST  GLIMPSES  101 

"And  good  luck  to  you  in  Ely,"  added  the  woman's 
father  as  he  stood  in  the  road  tugging  at  the  reins.  "Git-ap, 
George!" 

"The  saddest  part  of  it  is,"  said  Zudie  as  soon  as  they 
were  on  the  highway  again,  "they're  Americans,  and  they're 
just  as  Bolshevik  as  they  can  get." 

iii 

The  sun  was  sinking  low  as  they  drove  into  the  twisted 
streets  of  Ely.  A  multitude  of  yellow  children,  flying  their 
gaudy  kites  above  the  packing  house  by  the  station,  paused 
to  stare  at  the  outland  people,  for  word  had  gone  round 
that  the  Ely  tract  would  have  a  white  proprietress.  In 
front  of  the  barber  shop  Mr.  S.  Furioki  stared,  and  a  group 
of  prospective  customers  joined  him  in  the  empty  occupa 
tion.  Everything  in  Ely  stared.  The  garage,  the  res 
taurant,  the  general  store,  the  nearly  finished  Buddhist 
temple,  the  motion-picture  theater,  contributed  to  the  star 
ing  throng.  For  just  an  instant  Anna  had  the  uncomfortable 
feeling  of  one  unshielded  from  a  multitude  of  hostile  eyes. 

"Did  you  ever  see  such  a  bunch  of  rubbernecks?"  asked 
Kipps  from  the  front  seat,  craning  his  own  neck  that  he 
might  meet  his  mother's  eyes. 

"Hush,  dear,"  she  besought  him. 

A  moment  later  the  handsome  car  was  rolling  in  through 
a  dingy  white  gate  and  along  a  narrow  road  bordered  with 
sweetly  blossoming  trees.  At  the  end  of  the  drive  they 
saw  the  battered  home  which  Alec's  father  had  built  to  live 
in.  Its  mansard  roof,  its  jig-sawed  veranda,  its  loosely 
hung  shutters  presented  the  forlorn  appearance  of  a  house 
long  unoccupied.  A  knotty  little  man  stood  on  the  steps 
and  removed  his  hat  as  the  ladies  descended  from  Tazumi's 
limousine. 

"How  are  you  do?"  he  greeted  them,  bobbing  up  and 
down  as  he  presented  his  toil-worn  hand.  "I  am  Mr. 
Shimba,  your  one-half  sharer,  and  so  happy  you  come  1" 


102  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"We're  so  happy  too!"  cried  Anna.  "This  is  my  sister, 
Miss  Brand." 

The  capable  half-sharer  bobbed  again. 

"Mr.  Oki — you  know  him  maybe? — terrigraf  me  send 
Japanese  house-cleaner  boy  fix  your  home,"  smiled  Shimba, 
his  puckery  face  conveying  nothing  but  desire  to  please. 

A  troop  of  little  men,  working  like  brownies  through  the 
bare  halls  and  stairways,  were  scrubbing,  polishing,  putting 
the  house  in  order.  What  a  friendly  race  it  was,  never  rest 
ing  in  effort  to  be  of  service! 

Much  as  she  longed  to  like  it,  Anna's  first  view  of  her 
new  home  chilled  her  spirits.  The  paper,  faded  to  a  color' 
less  gray,  was  badly  cracked,  even  peeling  in  places.  Some 
of  the  window  panes  were  broken,  and  the  old  floors 
creaked  as  she  walked  over  them.  The  few  pieces  of  fur 
niture  which  she  had  saved  from  the  wreckage  of  the 
Brand  estate  had  been  delivered,  and  she  was  encouraged  to 
find  that  Mr.  Oki's  obliging  troupe  had  unpacked  the  beds 
and  set  them  up. 

"All  this  place  needs,"  said  Kipps,  after  a  round  of  in 
spection,  "is  a  he-man  to  fix  it." 

"We  can  hang  things  over  the  bad  places  in  the  paper," 
announced  Zudie,  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  her  brave  little 
heart. 

"We'll  do  better  than  that,"  Anna  decided.  "This  farm  is 
going  to  be  modernized,  Zudie." 

Full  of  her  plans,  Anna  took  Kipps  by  the  hand  and 
walked  down  the  gentle  slope  to  the  river.  Trunks  and 
bags  could  wait ;  she  must  see  her  land.  Bees  were  swing 
ing  heavily  in  the  slanting  sun.  Blossoms,  blossoms  every 
where,  a  carnival  of  sweet-scented  snow  hung  upon  regi 
ments  of  trees  which  marched  in  symmetrical  rows  into 
the  distance  on  every  side.  What  could  be  a  lovelier  road 
to  wealth,  every  blossom  to  grow  into  fruit  with  which  to 
buy  their  happiness? 

The.  ny,er  rolled  .lazily  below.     Through  the  willows  the 


FIRST  GLIMPSE£  103 

humble  huts  of  the  Japanese  showed  vaguely.  Down  by 
the  stream  a  little  rough  wharf  had  been  built,  and  Jap 
anese  children  were  stooping  to  dabble  in  the  stream.  One 
of  them,  a  boy  in  a  khaki  soldier  suit,  ran  along  the  fcank 
in  energetic  guidance  of  a  multicolored  kite,  an  outlandish 
plaything  with  bat's  wings  and  the  body  of  a  demon.  The 
children  laughed  as  the  papery  monster  darted  restlessly 
in  the  breeze,  then  with  a  spiteful  swoop  fell  head  down  at 
Anna's  feet.  g 

"That's  a  pretty  bum  kite,  mother,"  said  Kipps  as  he 
picked  up  the  wreck. 

"I  think  it's  lovely,"  said  Anna. 

She  surveyed  the  intricate  toy  with  its  ferocious  face 
cunningly  painted  in  pink,  red,  green  and  black.  It  had  all 
the  grotesque  charm  of  the  people  who  adorn  the  slightest 
thing  they  touch.  On  a  spreading  fan  across  its  body  were 
daubed  three  bold-faced  characters. 

The  yellow  boy  in  khaki  came  shyly  up  the  bank  and 
held  out  his  hand. 

"What  is  your  name,  little  boy?"  she  asked. 

"John  Matsu." 

"Well,  John  Matsu,  what  are  those  words  written  on 
your  kite?" 

John  Matsu  merely  grinned,  showing  his  prominent  teeth, 
as  he  took  the  kite  and  backed  rapidly  away. 

"He's  a  funny  bird,  isn't  he  ?"  giggled  Kipps. 

"They  don't  speak  English  very  well,"  said  Anna.  "But 
you  must  be  nice  to  them,  Kipps.  Their  people  work  on 
our  farm." 

Kipps  stood  very  close  to  his  mother,  and  she  saw  the 
wistful  look  come  into  his  gray  eyes  as  they  scanned  the 
flowery  hillocks  and  the  deep-brown  stream  crawling 
sleepily  past  its  emerald  banks. 

"Is  this  all  ours,  mother  ?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"Every  bit,  my  dear.    All  ours !" 

And  she  crouched  down  to  hold  his  slim  body  close  to 
hers. 


CHAPTER  IX:    JUST  ONE  MORE 


THE  experiment  in  agriculture  which  Zudie  had  so  im 
petuously  proposed  one  cold  night  in  New  York 
seemed  from  the  very  first  to  be  crowned  with  the  flowers 
of  good  fortune.  No  one,  as  Zudie  had  pointed  out  the 
first  day,  could  be  unhappy  long  in  such  a  place.  Wind 
and  sun,  the  perfume  of  growing  things,  the  day's  work 
all  contributed  to  cure  those  distempers  bred  of  artificial 
life. 

Kipps  had  got  into  overalls  almost  as  soon  as  he  had  got 
into  the  farmhouse.  The  first  morning  was  not  over  before 
he  had  been  stung  by  a  bee,  fallen  into  the  river  and  been 
stepped  on  by  Rodger,  an  ancient  brown  hcrse,  for  which 
Kipps  had  formed  an  immediate  attachment.  Kipps  was 
having  a  good  time. 

Anna's  first  problem  was  the  house.  As  it  stood,  she 
knew  it  could  never  be  a  home  for  her  family.  With 
Zudie's  help  she  planned  to  renovate  the  old  farmhouse  and 
make  it  at  least  endurable  for  women  who  had  never  been 
without  the  luxury  of  pretty  things.  The  first  day's  experi 
ence  taught  her  that  she  must  have  an  automobile  of  her 
own.  Therefore  she  bribed  Matsu  to  drive  her  to  Sacra 
mento,  where  she  was  able  to  buy  a  slightly  used  enclosed 
car  with  seats  for  four.  It  was  pretty  and  in  very  good 
condition.  Anna,  indifferent  driver  though  she  was,  man 
aged  to  get  it  home  without  accident. 

When  a  painter  and  paper  hanger  sent  an  estimate  Anna 
felt  that  her  house  must  be  a  palace  instead  of  a  really 
modest  establishment.  She  chose  simple,  unfigured  paper 

104 


JUST  ONE  MORE  105 

for  the  walls,  but  the  cost  of  labor  involved  her  in  high 
finance,  manage  as  she  would.  Zudie  insisted  upon  deco 
rating  the  upstairs  rooms,  which  was  very  kind  of  Zudie, 
and  almost  broke  her  back.  But  it  saved  a  little  and  per 
mitted  Anna  to  lavish  an  extra  coat  of  paint  on  the  outside 
of  the  house. 

There  were  many  necessary  things  to  be  bought  at  shock 
ing  prices,  but  the  worst  among  Anna's  trials  were  the 
practical  suggestions  of  her  farmer,  Mr.  J.  Shimba,  Esq. 

"That  pomp  he  give  too  much  dry  water,"  grinned 
Shimba,  appearing  at  the  door  soon  after  her  arrival. 
"Irrigation  very  bad,  because  that  pomp  will  not  do  so." 

She  was  conducted  to  a  shed  and  invited  to  watch  a  gas- 
driven  machine,  which — according  to  Shimba — gave  too 
much  dry  water.  She  knew  nothing  of  internal-combustion 
engines,  but  she  could  hear  the  mournful  noises  which  the 
old  pump  made  when  it  worked.  To  Shimba's  opinion  was 
added  that  of  Kipps,  who  declared  that  it  needed  fixing, 
so  she  sent  for  the  pump's  Stockton  representative,  who 
agreed  with  Kipps  so  heartily  that  Anna  ordered  a  new 
and  beautiful  pump  to  be  installed  in  place  of  the  creaky 
relic. 

Shimba  was  also  active  in  asserting  his  rights  as  party 
of  the  second  part  when  he  led  Anna  to  the  tool  house  and 
displayed  piles  of  broken  wood  and  rusty  iron  which  re 
sembled  nothing  so  much  as  a  collection  of  wreckage 
gathered  from  some  ancient  battlefield.  He  exhibited  the 
junk,  one  piece  at  a  time,  and  his  face  was  wreathed  in  the 
happy  smiles  which  his  countrymen  employ  when  impart 
ing  bad  news. 

"Bursted!"  was  his  favorite  expression  as  he  picked  up 
split  hoe  handles,  blunted  plowshares  and  fragments  torn 
from  spring  harrows. 

In  this  chamber  of  horrors  Anna  gained  her  first  lesson 
in  the  mechanics  of  farming,  and  the  moral  she  carried 
away  was :  Good  tools,  good  work.  She  took  a  certain 


106  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

pride  in  the  bright  new  implements  which  she  bought  from 
a  Sacramento  dealer,  but  her  head  swam  when  the  bill  came 
in.  The  dealer  was  kind  and  allowed  her  sixty  days  for 
payment. 

As  long  as  carpenters  were  needed  to  build  a  garage  for 
the  slightly  used  car  it  seemed  only  decent  that  another  of 
Shimba's  requests  should  be  granted. 

"Several  houses  bursted,"  he  informed  her,  gesturing 
toward  tumble-down  barns  and  warehouses ;  so  the  owner 
of  the  Ely  tract  was  convinced  again. 

"We're  going  to  make  this  into  a  model  farm,"  she  told 
Zudie  the  first  day  when  hammers  were  banging  through 
out  the  place — at  ten  dollars  per  day  per  hammer. 

"Do  you  think  we  can  stand  the  racket?"  asked  Zudie, 
referring  to  the  dollars  lavished  upon  those  loud  hammer 
blows. 

"My  dear,"  smiled  Anna,  "thirty-eight  of  our  acres  will 
bear  nearly  four  tons  an  acre.  Half  of  that  will  be  ours, 
Zudie — at  twelve  cents  a  pound!" 

"We're  silk-stocking  farmers  after  all,"  sighed  Zudie. 
"Mr.  Shimba,  Esquire,  does  all  the  work  and  all  the  think 
ing  for  us.  All  we  need  to  do  is  to  sit  round  and  grow 
fat.  And  isn't  it  glorious !" 


Glorious,  indeed,  it  was.  However,  Anna  never  failed 
to  find  herself  pleasantly  fatigued  when  night  came  on.  At 
the  crack  of  dawn  the  Brand  sisters  would  array  themselves 
in  knickerbockers,  putties  and  smock  frocks,  anxious  to 
look  the  part,  and  as  soon  as  breakfast  was  over  they  would 
go  forth  into  the  orchards  to  assert  their  proprietorship, 
and  in  asserting  learn  their  trade. 

From  Shimba's  halting  lips  and  from  the  more  intelli 
gible  speech  of  Matsu  they  discovered  many  secrets  of  the 
prune  industry;  discovered  why  clover  should  be  sown  in 


JUST  ONE  MORE  107 

some  orchards  and  not  in  others;  why  trees  should  be 
pruned  and  sprayed;  why  little  scampering  pests  which 
gnaw  at  the  roots  must  be  caught  and  exterminated; 
learned  that  prunes  are  not  picked  from  the  tree  like  other 
fruit,  but  are  allowed  to  ripen  and  fall  to  the  ground; 
learned  how  the  fruit  is  gathered  and  dipped  into  a  kettle 
of  hot  lye  solution  to  dry  the  skin  before  exposure  to  the 
sun. 

In  everything  she  saw  Anna  was  impressed  with  the 
honest  industry  of  the  little  men.  Just  as  Zudie  had  said, 
Mr.  Shimba,  Esq.,  seemed  to  do  all  the  thinking  for  them. 
Whenever  there  was  light  to  see  across  the  fertile  orchards 
there  was  always  a  glimpse  of  little  men  and  women,  thek 
backs  bent  in  perpetual  toil.  Before  school  hours  a  flock 
of  Matsu  children  were  beside  their  shapeless  mother, 
weeding  in  the  four-acre  strawberry  patch  over  by  the 
sandy  road.  Like  their  parents,  they  seemed  never  to  sleep ; 
seemed  forever  busy  in  their  passionate  devotion  to  the 
land. 

The  question  of  school  had  bothered  Anna  for  a  few 
days.  Kipps  had  gone  to  a  private  school  in  New  York. 
Generations  of  aristocrats  had  made  the  Brands  a  trifle 
particular,  no  doubt.  A  certain  preparatory  school,  as  well 
as  a  certain  university,  had  been  traditional  in  the  family. 
With  her  thoughts  always  for  Zudie  and  Kipps  and  Nan, 
she  had  schemed  it  all  out,  she  believed,  on  the  way  across 
the  continent. 

Public  school  was,  of  course,  the  natural  answer  to  all 
this ;  public  school  would  be  quite  in  keeping  with  the  demo 
cratic  motif  of  her  adventure.  On  the  edge  of  Ely  there 
stood  a  fairly  decent  schoolhouse,  an  old-fashioned  wooden 
building  with  a  mansard  roof  and  jig-sawed  caps  over  the 
windows. 

Anna  took  Kipps,  over  there  one  day  during  the  noon 
recess.  Luncheon  was  over,  and  a  number  of  Japanese 
children  were  engaged  in  an  ancient  Greek  game  called  hop- 


108  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

scotch  or  quarreling  over  possession  of  a  patent  Yankee 
swing.  A  small  group  of  young  Caucasians  played  marbles 
in  their  own  corner. 

Kipps  was  muttering  something  which  sounded  like 
"Can  you  beat  it?"  as  his  mother  led  him  up  to  the  steps 
where  a  middle-aged,  brown-eyed  woman  sat  beside  her 
empty  lunch  basket,  a  tow-headed  girl  of  eight  snuggling 
against  her  shoulder. 

"Yes,  I'm  the  teacher,"  said  the  brown-eyed  woman  as 
she  smiled  down  on  the  tear-stained  face  under  her  arm  and 
explained.  "She's  Henry  Ward's  little  girl.  She  doesn't 
get  along  very  well  with  the  Japanese,  you  know." 

Just  why  the  name  of  Henry  Ward  should  be  associated 
with  race  difficulties  was  a  puzzle  to  Anna,  but  the  pleasant 
teacher  made  it  clear  enough. 

"He's  the  white  storekeeper,  you  know.  All  the  white 
people  moving  away  made  quite  a  difference  in  his  business, 
and  he's  pretty  bitter.  I've  told  Lottie  time  and  again  not 
to  quarrel  with  them." 

"Are  they  quarrelsome?"  asked  Anna,  for  the  first  time 
feeling  uncertain  of  her  plan. 

"They're  really  very  nice,"  replied  the  teacher.  "I  think 
they're  kinder  than  our  children  if  you  rub  them  the  right 
way.  Of  course  there's  such  a  lot  of  them — fifty-one  Jap 
anese  and  only  eleven  white  children.  I  don't  suppose 
there's  as  much  trouble  as  there  is  when  other  races  come 
together — Irish  and  Italian,  for  instance." 

"I  don't  see  no  use  in  their  having  the  swing  all  the 
time!"  moaned  the  quarrelsome  Lottie. 

"Hush,  dear !"  said  the  kind  teacher,  a  plump  arm  round 
the  little  girl's  shoulder. 

Anna  explained  about  her  own  children.  Kipps,  the 
teacher  decided,  would  be  old  enough  for  the  fourth  grade. 

"He's  only  eight,"  said  Anna,  stroking  the  unruly  locks 
of  her  bad,  bad  boy.  "He  looks  a  little  old  for  his  age.  I 
wonder  if  the  fourth  grade  isn't  rather  advanced  for  him?" 


JUST  ONE  MORE  109 

"It  might  be,"  agreed  the  teacher,  watching  Kipps  as 
he  ran  away  to  join  the  white  minority  by  the  fence.  "It 
might  be,  but  we  have  to  make  a  special  grading  here.  The 
American  children  have  to  be  put  a  notch  ahead  of  the 
Japanese." 

"Really?    I  thought  they  were  so  bright." 

"Bright?  Indeed  they  are!"  the  teacher  laughed.  "But 
it's  a  question  of  English.  They  seem  to  forget  it  as  fast 
as  we  can  teach  it  to  them.  Of  course  they  can't  learn  any 
thing  right  if  they  don't  understand  the  language.  Once 
I  thought  we  might  teach  their  mothers  and  get  results  that 
way.  But  there's  no  use  trying  that.  The  Japanese  women, 
poor  dears,  are  too  busy  hoeing  weeds  and  having  babies 
to  take  much  care  of  their  children's  education." 

"Of  course.  It  must  be  hard  for  these  children  to  under 
stand  a  language  so  different " 

"That's  not  it.  But  you  see  they're  out  of  school  at  half 
past  three,  and  from  here  they  march  right  over  to  a  room 
behind  Mr.  Akagashi's  drug  store.  And  there  the  Jap 
parson's  wife  gives  them  lessons  in  Japanese." 

"I  don't  understand,"  murmured  Anna. 

"That's  what  almost  everybody  says  after  they've  lived  a 
while  in  Ely,"  smiled  the  teacher.  "But  I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  the  Beneficent  Society  could  tell  you  why — if  they 
would." 

A  bell  rang.  Obedient  to  the  summons,  children  came 
swarming  from  their  play  to  form  a  double  line  at  the  foot 
of  the  steps.  Little  girls  from  six  to  twelve,  impish-eyed, 
flat-faced,  docile,  stood  in  line  marking  time  mechanically 
at  the  teacher's  command.  Here  and  there  a  head  of  soft 
brown  or  flaxen  hair  marked  a  small  daughter  of  the 
dwindling  minority.  On  the  boys'  side  the  alignment  was 
less  orderly.  A  yellow  lad  of  ten  writhed  from  his  military 
attitude,  half  turned  and  struck  back.  A  red-headed  brat 
had  pinched  him  from  behind. 

The  procession  advanced,  one-two,  one-two,  and   soon 


110  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

the  minor  race  problem  dissolved  in  the  depths  of  the 
school. 

Next  day  Anna  found  time  to  visit  the  classrooms  and 
see  her  children  among  their  schoolmates.  Kipps,  seated 
beside  the  kite-flying  John  Matsu  and  surrounded  by  little 
Japanese,  was  gazing  wonderstricken  about  him.  He  had 
always  been  a  comfort,  and  he  had  his  father's  eyes,  re 
flected  Anna,  but  when  those  eyes  met  hers  she  was  sur 
prised  by  the  thing  he  did.  He  winked.  That  was  most 
unmannerly  of  Kipps,  she  thought,  but  somehow  she  loved 
him  all  the  more  for  it. 

Hi 

Toward  the  end  of  the  following  week  a  little  drama  on 
the  Brand  farm  brought  Anna  in  direct  contact  with  the 
Japanese  parson's  wife. 

Since  her  first  day  in  Ely  she  had  been  puzzled  to  account 
for  the  family  relations  existing  in  the  bare  board  shanties 
on  her  property  down  by  the  river.  All  Japanese  women 
looked  about  alike  to  her  at  that  period  in  her  education, 
but  she  had  learned  to  identify  the  shapeless  woman  under 
the  enormous  sunbonnet  as  Mrs.  Matsu.  The  children  too 
were  Matsu's,  it  turned  out.  Once  she  was  touched  by  the 
sight  of  the  patient  creature  relinquishing  her  hoe  to  still 
the  screams  of  a  one-year-old  who  sat  securely  strapped 
into  a  gocart  under  a  tree.  Mrs.  Matsu  gave  it  pap  out  of 
a  bottle.  Anna  was  horrified  upon  examining  the  mixture 
— a  solution  of  condensed  milk  in  lukewarm  water. 

She  made  an  attempt  to  protest.  Mrs.  Matsu,  who 
understood  no  English,  smiled  and  bobbed.  The  handsome 
Mr.  Matsu  could  not  fail  to  understand,  but  he  merely 
giggled  and  explained  that  "  'Merican  milkcan  make  chil 
dren  so  nice." 

Round  the  community  house  occupied  by  the  Matsus  and 
Shimba  another  woman  came  and  went,  flitting  like  a  ghost. 
Anna  at  first  supposed  her  to  be  Matsu's  mother.  She  never 


JUST  ONE  MORE  111 

worked  as  the  others  did.  She  would  appear  suddenly, 
standing  stiff  as  a  corpse  at  a  corner  of  the  orchard,  her 
white  face  blank,  as  silent  and  grotesque  as  some  wicked 
goddess  of  porcelain  from  the  temples  of  her  fatherland. 

Once  Anna  asked  Shimba  about  the  woman,  but  the 
solemn  farmer  looked  with  eyes  impenetrable  as  lacquer, 
then  diverted  the  conversation  to  the  more  important  ques 
tion  of  irrigation.  One  evening  at  dusk  she  saw  two  Jap 
anese  women  from  the  village  lead  the  strange  being  away. 
All  bent  and  terrible,  she  waddled  on  her  crooked  legs. 

A  few  mornings  later  Anna  noticed  that  there  was  no 
blue  sunbonnet  among  the  broad  straw  hats  of  the  men  in 
the  field.  Near  ten  o'clock  Matsu  came  hurriedly  over, 
trotting  as  briskly  as  his  bandy  legs  would  carry  him. 

"I  use  terrifone,  please?"  he  asked,  all  out  of  breath. 

"Certainly,"  cried  Anna,  half  guessing  what  it  was  all 
about. 

When  the  man  had  found  his  number  and  filled  the 
mouthpiece  with  rapid  Japanese  he  turned  to  her  with  a 
smile : 

"My  wife  get  good  baby  from  our  house,"  he  explained. 

"How  nice !"  said  Anna.  Then  feeling  somewhat  fright 
ened  at  the  situation  on  her  farm :  "What  are  you  doing  for 
her?" 

"Oh,  everything  go  pretty  good,"  he  smiled.  "Doctor 
come  fast  from  Sacramento." 

Anna  hurried  down  the  path  to  the  little  brown  houses  by 
the  river,  where  several  neighborly  women,  waddling  across 
the  mud  floor  into  the  inner  room,  indicated  that  Mrs. 
Matsu  was  not  without  care  at  the  advent  of  her  fifth-born. 
Upon  Anna's  appearance  they  did  not  bob  as  they  did  in 
the  presence  of  the  lordly  male,  but  their  looks  were  benevo 
lent. 

In  the  disorder  of  the  Matsu  bedroom  Anna  could  dis 
cern  the  figure  of  Mrs.  Matsu  under  a  cheap  red  comforter 
on  the  raised  platform  where  they  slept.  The  head,  braced 


112  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

against  a  notched  block  of  wood,  was  still  as  a  mask  of 
wax.  Dull  coals  burned  behind  the  slitlike  eyeholes. 

A  thin  wail  from  the  corner  proclaimed  the  fifth-born.  A 
tiny  fragment  of  new  flesh,  red  and  puckery,  it  screamed 
inanely  and  pounded  its  tiny  fists  in  life's  instinctive  protest 
against  life.  A  topknot  of  vigorous  black  hair  sprouted 
above  the  domelike  forehead. 

"You  poor,  sweet  darling !"  cried  Anna,  voicing  woman's 
primal  thrill  at  the  sight  of  a  new  baby. 

An  old  crone,  who  had  been  dressing  the  child  in  its  first 
swaddling  clothes,  glanced  up.  Superstitious  terror  filled 
Anna's  heart  as  she  recognized  the  face  of  that  strange 
woman  who  had  been  haunting  the  orchards. 

"Couldn't  we  straighten  this  place  up  a  bit?"  Anna  sug 
gested  after  a  look  round  the  room.  "It's  stuffy  in  here. 
Can't  you  let  in  a  little  air?" 

The  helpful  neighbors  remained  standing,  benevolent 
smiles  still  fixed  upon  their  faces.  It  was  a  cool  day  and 
the  bare  interior  seemed  clammy. 

"Aren't  you  cold?"  she  asked  the  invalid  who  was  hud 
dled  under  the  poor  coverlid. 

She  put  her  hand  on  the  waxlike  cheek  and  was  surprised 
to  find  the  skin  hot.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done  until 
the  doctor  came,  so  Anna  set  to  work  clearing  the  cluttered 
room. 

A  perambulator,  a  broken  section  from  a  spring  harrow, 
cans  of  bamboo  sprouts,  an  unwashed  wash,  two  kegs  bear 
ing  Japanese  labels,  a  headless  American  doll,  dozens  of 
illustrated  Japanese  magazines,  a  box  of  seeds,  a  framed 
photograph  of  Norma  Talmadge  and  a  battered,  devil-faced 
kite — all  these  she  carried  from  the  sick  room. 

This  kite  had  always  interested  her.  The  malign  expres 
sion  of  its  face,  the  crazy-quilt  decorations  of  its  body  and 
batlike  wings  conveyed  a  grotesque  charm.  And  what  were 
the  three  bold  Japanese  characters  painted  across  its  breast  ? 


JUST  ONE  MORE 

Mrs.  Furioki,  the  barber's  wife,  bobbed  and  smiled  when 
Anna  besought  a  translation  of  the  mysterious  motto,  if 
motto  it  were. 

"No — un'stand — Eengliss!"  she  hissed,  and  stared  be 
nevolently. 

Anna  took  the  canned  goods  into  the  kitchen.  The  sew 
ing  machine  she  rolled  into  Shimba's  already  overflowing 
apartment.  The  fragment  of  spring  harrow  she  secreted  in 
a  shedlike  niche  which  proved  to  be  a  bathroom,  for  it 
boasted  the  square  wooden  box,  half  filled  with  soapy 
water,  where  the  members  of  the  household  took  their  even 
ing  soak,  one  at  a  time,  in  the  order  of  their  importance. 

The  Japanese  doctor  came  at  last,  followed  by  the  rev 
erently  bobbing  Matsu.  He  was  a  bald,  withered  man  with 
the  face  of  an  idol.  To  Anna's  suggestions  as  to  sanitary 
improvements  he  gave  polite  attention,  and  said  "Eh !"  sev 
eral  times.  Otherwise  he  contributed  nothing  to  the  sum  of 
her  knowledge.  She  intercepted  him  on  his  way  out  and 
insisted  upon  being  heard. 

"But,  doctor,"  she  said,  "can't  we  get  her  into  a  more 
comfortable  bed?  I'll  take  her  to  my  house  if  she  can  be 
moved." 

"My  dear  lady,"  he  smiled,  using  fair  English,  "why  you 
disturb  her  when  she  doing  so  well?  Of  course  she  should 
gone  to  hospital.  But  what  are  we  to  do?  I  continually 
tell  my  people  that.  But  farmers'  wives  so  busy.  They 
have  little  time  to  go  away." 

"But  the  baby!" 

"Oh,  do  not  worry  about  that,  madam.  We  Japanese  are 
very  good  to  our  children."  Then  as  though  thanking  her 
in  behalf  of  his  entire  race :  "Eoit  we  appreciate  it  so  much ! 
Mrs.  Matsu  is  ambitious  woman  and  will  be  all  right  after 
a  rest." 

"How  long  a  rest?"  urged  Anna. 

"That  for  her  to  decide,"  replied  the  doctor  as  he  hurried 
away  toward  his  machine. 


114  SEED  O^  .    SUN 

iv 

Anna  was  not  entirely  satisfied  with  this  solution  of  the 
question.  That  afternoon  she  went  over  to  the  village, 
determined  to  ask  help  of  the  yellow  pastor's  wife. 

She  could  hear  the  singsong  of  many  childish  voices  as 
she  entered  the  bleak,  improvised  schoolroom  back  of  Aka- 
gashi's  new  drug  store.  Glancing  through  the  open  door 
she  could  see  a  charming  little  woman  who  stood  straighter 
and  slimmer  than  her  sisters  of  the  field  as  she  held  in  one 
hand  a  textbook,  in  the  other  a  pencil.  From  her  book  she 
would  read  a  short  sentence  in  Japanese,  while  fifty  pairs 
of  eyes  would  be  focused  on  her  in  elfin  attention.  Then 
fifty  little  voices  would  take  up  her  words,  repeating  them 
over  and  over.  Fifty  black  heads  would  bob  down  toward 
the  desks  until  fifty  broad  noses  were  less  than  two  inches 
above  the  paper  pads  upon  which  the  lesson  was  being 
jotted. 

The  parson's  wife  ?ooked  round  and  saw  Anna.  She 
smiled  pleasantly,  came  down  from  her  rostrum  and  said: 
"How  you  do?  Won't  you  come  in?" 

"I'm  Mrs.  Bly,"  said  Anna,  giving  her  hand. 

"And  I  am  Mrs.  Awaga,"  said  the  little  teacher.  "We 
enjoy  writing  lesson  now.  It  is  Friday,  and  some  children 
will  be  speaking  pieces  right  away.  Would  you  care  lis 
ten?" 

Anna  accepted  a  chair  by  the  rostrum  and  sat  quietly 
watching  the  process  of  uneducating  little  foreigners  in 
English.  Among  the  children,  bending  so  laboriously  and 
squinting  in  their  efforts  to  form  the  characters  which 
Japan  borrowed  from  China  so  many  ages  ago,  she  recog 
nized  many  whom  she  had  seen  in  the  American  schoolroom 
beside  her  son.  They  were  quaint  dolls,  most  of  them,  the 
girls  with  their  wiry  black  hair  cut  severely  straight  across 
the  forehead,  the  boys  with  their  heads  close-cropped  like 
German  soldiers. 


JUST  ONE  MORE  115 

Anna  picked  up  a  little  textbook  and  went  idly  through 
its  inscrutable  pages.  There  were  quaint  pictures  of  mytho 
logical  personages.  She  was  curious  to  know  the  meaning 
of  those  queerly  shaped  characters  running  from  top  to  bot 
tom  of  every  page.  But  the  teacher  was  rapping  for  order, 
and  after  a  few  liquid  syllables  had  been  spoken  from  the 
rostrum  a  very  tiny  girl  with  a  blue  ribbon  in  her  hair  took 
the  stage  and  began  to  bubble  Japanese.  She  swayed  her 
body  and  cocked  one  eye  toward  the  ceiling,  as  most  chil 
dren  do  when  reciting. 

"The  story  of  George  Washington's  hatchet,"  interpreted 
the  parson's  wife  with  a  deprecating  smile  toward  Anna's 
chair. 

A  bullet-headed  little  yokel  in  overalls  and  a  colorless 
sweater  next  took  the  floor  to  recite  a  long  piece  which  he 
ripped  out  all  in  one  breath,  his  eyes  constantly  fixed  on  his 
teacher.  This  was,  she  explained,  a  Sunday-school  lesson 
which  he  had  learned  for  the  occasion. 

As  soon  as  the  ordeal  had  closed  and  the  pupils — suffi 
ciently  un-Englished  for  the  day — had  gone  trooping  out  to 
the  air  of  "Shall  We  Gather  at  the  River,"  executed  by 
Mrs.  Awaga  on  a  cabinet  organ,  Anna  had  an  opportunity 
to  speak  the  things  that  were  on  her  mind. 

Curiosity  came  first,  however.  She  had  picked  up  the 
illustrated  primer  and  asked:  "It's  so  quaint.  I'd  like 
awfully  to  know  what's  in  it." 

"Just  ordinary  school  primer,"  replied  Mrs.  Awaga, 
whose  English  was  a  shade  better  than  Mr.  Otisuki's,  but 
not  so  good  as  Mr.  Oki's.  "Imperial  government  supplies 
schools  with  such  primer  in  Japan,  and  Beneficent  Society 
sent  us  many  when  they  so  kindly  help  us  form  this  school." 

Her  last  words  caused  the  visitor  to  wonder  just  what 
had  been  the  nature  of  that  kindly  help. 

"And  these  are  little  stories  for  the  children?" 

"Yes."  Mrs.  Awaga  smiled  indulgently  and  explained: 
"What  our  children  will  like  and  understand.  First  story 


116  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

in  the  book  is  legend  of  Amaterasu,  the  sun  goddess.  Then 
it  tell  some  legends  how  she  made  the  Japanese  people  and 
how  Jinmu  Tenno,  our  first  emperor" — Anna  imagined 
that  her  voice  lowered  at  the  last  word — "how  he  was  de 
scended  from  gods  and  goddesses  to  rule  Japan.  These 
stories  go  along  up  to  divinity  of  Meiji  epoch — important 
things  it  has  accomplished,  you  know." 

"But,  Mrs.  Awaga,"  said  Anna,  "surely,  if  you  are  a 
Christian,  you  can't  believe  these  stories  about  the  emperors 
having  been  born  right  out  of  heaven." 

"I  do  not  believe  them,"  said  the  little  teacher.  "Gentle 
men  who  are  running  Japan  do  not  believe  them  also.  But 
Mikado  makes  nice  idol  to  set  up  and  worship.  Great  poli 
tics  can  be  worked  by  that." 

She  giggled.  Only  a  Japanese  can  put  bitterness  into 
that  sound. 

"Beneficent  Society  got  those  book  for  us.  Beneficent 
Society  so  kindly  help  in  everything  about  this  school. 
What  we  shall  do?  Such  are  same  stories  taught  children 
in  Japan — and  if  we  wish  keep  them  Japanese  here " 

This  earnest,  laborious  little  woman  seemed  far  franker 
than  her  sisters,  and  in  her  broken  explanation  she  be 
trayed  the  presence  of  a  secret  she  was  loath  to  keep. 

"I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about  one  of  my  farmer's 
wives,"  Anna  said  after  a  pause.  "Mrs.  Matsu — you  know 
her,  I  suppose — she  has  a  baby." 

"So  soon  ?"  The  little  teacher  raised  her  fine-drawn  eye 
brows. 

"Yes.  You  see,  I've  been  here  such  a  short  time.  I 
hardly  know  what  to  do  in  a  case  like  this.  And  this 
woman — well,  the  house  seems  rather  uncomfortable  and 
bleak." 

"You  want  me  do  something?"  asked  Mrs.  Awaga  as 
though  she  did  not  understand. 

"I  hate  to  interfere,"  admitted  Anna.    "I've  done  what 


JUST  ONE  MORE  117 

I  could,  but  it  seems  dreadfully  impertinent  for  me  to  be 
meddling." 

Mrs.  Awaga  giggled  again. 

"It  very  hard  to  do  something  there/'  she  said,  becom 
ing  suddenly  serious. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  local  dissension  had  been  hinted 
to  Anna.  However,  the  welfare  of  Mrs.  Matsu  was  on  her 
mind,  so  she  urged:  "I'd  very  much  appreciate  it  if  you 
would  see  what  you  can  do." 

"Oh,  I  try  what  I  can,"  agreed  the  little  teacher,  and 
followed  Anna  to  the  main  street. 

When  they  had  reached  the  first  turn  and  were  passing 
her  husband's  jerry-built  Methodist  church  Mrs.  Awaga 
stopped  and  looked  at  the  heathen  rival  across  the  way. 
Its  Buddhist  emblem  was  all  gilded  now  and  the  new  build 
ing  shone  bright  and  prosperous  in  the  sun. 

"Soon  it  will  be  dedicated,"  said  Mrs.  Awaga  in  a 
thoughtful  tone.  "There  will  be  much  noise — expense  will 
be  hanged.  There  will  be  a  brass  band.  We  could  not 
make  much  noise  in  our  poor  church  with  our  small 
Christian  organ,  could  we?" 

"But  if  the  Japanese  of  Ely  want  a  Buddhist  church 
here "  Anna  began,  only  to  be  cut  off. 

"Who  say  they  want  it?  It  has  been  choosed  for  them. 
Majority  of  Japanese  here  have  not  called  for  Buddha. 
But  there  stand  such  a  fine  temple,  too  rich  with  expensive 
altar.  So  it  are  all  over  this  Carrifornia.  No  sooner  Chris 
tian  church  rise  up  nice  than  considerable  money  come 
from  somewhere  to  build  grand  Buddhist  temple  so  that  we 
shall  be  choked  off." 

Mrs.  Awaga  stood  in  contemplation.  The  look  on  her 
small  face,  already  marked  with  fine  wrinkles,  showed 
something  nobler  than  jealousy. 

"That  god  is  a  rich  fellow,"  she  smiled  at  last,  and  fol 
lowed  Anna  across  the  orchards. 


CHAPTER  X:    A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT 


HEAVEN  must  be  a  land  where  happiness  may  feed 
upon   itself  and  create  more  happiness;   in   heaven 
there  are  no  reactions  against  the  monotony  of  bliss.    But 
at  Ely,  as  Anna  soon  discovered,  there  was  no  such  perfect 
system. 

She  woke  one  morning  to  find  herself  a  prey  to  an  un 
accountable  depression — a  depression  which  she  had  been 
striving  to  fight  off  these  many  days.  Here  she  stood, 
blinking  drearily  upon  a  land  bathed  in  sunshine,  musical 
with  the  song  of  meadow  larks.  Among  the  climbing  roses, 
heavy  with  bloom,  humming  birds  poised  as  though  perched 
on  thin  air,  the  rapid  wings  which  supported  them  invisible 
in  the  sunlight. 

Merry  as  the  morning,  Zudie  whistled  a  roof -gar  den  air 
as  she  clattered  among  the  breakfast  dishes.  How  gamely 
Anna's  little  sister  had  taken  to  the  adventure !  But  it  was 
the  thought  of  Zudie  and  of  her  own  children  that  lay 
heavy  on  Anna's  heart. 

The  idea  had  obsessed  her  suddenly,  weighing  her  down 
like  a  cope  of  lead :  "We're  alone  here !  We're  isolated  in 
paradise !  We  have  nothing  in  common  with  the  yellow 
men  round  us  or  the  white  men  beyond.  What  is  to  be 
come  of  Zudie  and  of  my  babies?" 

During  the  weeks  past  she  had  grown  aware  of  a  situa 
tion.  The  white  inhabitants  were  turning  hostile  faces 
against  the  owner  of  the  Ely  property.  She  had  got  the 
first  hint  of  this  when  Kipps  had  come  home  from  school 
with  a  tale  of  Henry  Ward's  quarrelsome  daughter  linger- 

118 


A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT  119 

ing  by  the  gate  to  yell  "Jap  lover !"  after  him.  Anna  had 
divided  her  trading  between  Ward's  store  and  Akagashi's 
more  prosperous  establishment  in  the  village;  and  on 
her  shopping  rounds  she  had  taken  occasion  to  question 
Henry  Ward,  who  apparently  had  endowed  his  Lottie  with 
a  bad  disposition. 

She  had  found  him,  a  tall,  stooping  man  with  a  chisel 
face  and  horseshoe  mustache,  sitting  idly  in  front  of  his 
badly  stocked  shelves.  He  laid  down  a  copy  of  California's 
most  incendiary  illustrated  newspaper.  He  waited  on  her 
wrhen — as  the  saying  goes — he  got  good  and  ready.  When 
she  had  asked  him  as  amiably  as  possible  about  Lottie  he 
had  shoved  a  loaf  of  bread  rudely  across  the  counter  and 
drawled,  "We  ain't  got  much  use  for  Japs  round  our  place." 

What  had  she  done  to  deserve  this  attack?  True,  she 
had  formed  almost  a  friendship  with  the  wife  of  the  Japa 
nese  parson,  whose  pathetic  struggle  to  keep  a  Christian 
congregation  in  opposition  to  an  alluring  Buddhist  temple 
had  appealed  to  Anna's  sense  of  fair  play.  It  was  no  fault 
of  hers,  surely,  that  none  but  Japanese  worked  on  her  farm. 
The  machinations  of  the  I.  W.  W.,  she  was  informed,  had 
made  white  labor  well  nigh  impossible.  Akagashi's  grocery, 
too,  carried  a  better  stock  and  dealt  more  generously  with 
her  than  Ward's. 

Another  and  more  pressing  worry  disturbed  her  mind 
this  sunny  morning.  The  first  crop  of  the  year  was  prov 
ing  a  poor  investment.  Over  by  the  road  a  four-acre  strip 
had  been  laid  out  in  strawberries.  It  happened  to  be  a 
sandy  piece,  quite  different  from  the  surrounding  soil.  In 
deed,  hers  was  the  only  strawberry  patch  this  side  of  the 
busy  Japanese  colony  of  Florin,  several  miles  away. 

A  week  before  picking  time  Shimba  had  pointed  out  the 
poor  condition  of  the  vines — many  leaves  so  withered  that 
they  crackled  into  dust  between  the  thumb  and  finger. 
Green  berries  drooped  on  the  stem  and  never  ripened. 

"Bug !"  Shimba  had  explained,  picking  a  tiny  beetle  from 


120  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

among  the  roots.  "Many  like  million  he  come.  Aggycul- 
ture-school  man  no  could  un'stand  him." 

Berries,  however,  had  ripened  in  what  looked  to  Anna 
like  overflowing  quantities.  She  had  enjoyed  the  satisfac 
tion  of  beholding  a  troop  of  the  familiar  brownies,  male 
and  female,  squatting  among  the  rows,  pushing  laden  trays 
of  brilliant  berries  ahead  of  them.  Strawberries  were 
bringing  more  than  two  dollars  a  crate  in  the  commission 
market.  Some  of  the  pickers  were  making  as  much  as  ten 
dollars  a  day  at  the  prevailing  rate  of  sixty  cents  a  crate. 
Prosper  their  work  so  long  as  the  good  ripe  berries  held 
out! 

But  in  less  than  a  week  the  fruit  was  being  rejected, 
rotten  and  disfigured,  by  the  packing  house. 

"Sorry,  but  we've  had  to  throw  about  half  of  'em  out," 
Mr.  Crane,  the  shipper,  had  informed  her.  "We  can't  touch 
bruised  berries — a  mess  like  that  would  rot  a  carload." 

"Why  should  my  berries  be  bruised?"  Anna  had  asked 
aghast. 

Mr.  Crane  had  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Bad  picking,  I'll  say." 

Mr.  Shimba,  Anna's  half-sharer  in  the  enterprise,  had 
seemed  struck  dumb  by  the  ill  tidings. 

"Some  bad  man  got  in  our  patch !"  he  exclaimed,  his  face 
desolate.  "I  fire  somebody  too  quick." 

Another  corps  of  brownies — or  at  least  a  partially  revised 
one — had  appeared  in  the  patch  next  morning.  But  Mr. 
Crane  continued  to  reject  the  bruised  and  rotting  crates. 
The  situation  had  driven  Anna  to  a  futile  frenzy.  A  minor 
share  of  her  year's  profit  was  gone.  Gloom  sat  on  Shim- 
ba's  sloping  shoulders.  He  had  no  explanation  further 
than,  "Bad  man!"  Finally  he  had  discharged  his  entire 
crew,  and  found  nobody  to  take  their  places  save  the  little 
band  of  faithfuls,  Matsu,  the  convalescent  Mrs.  Matsu  and 
their  two  oldest  children. 

Anna  and  Zudie  had  tried  picking  for  a  day,  to  limp 


A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT 

home,  back-broken  and  dejected.  Baron  Tazumi's  pro 
phetic  words,  "I  should  hate  to  think  of  your  growing  bent 
in  a  year,  of  your  pretty  hands  becoming  red  and  swollen," 
had  mocked  her  in  her  troubled  dreams  that  night. 

ii 

So  on  this  brilliant  morning  Anna  stood  by  her  blossom 
ing  porch  and  looked  upon  paradise  with  lackluster  eyes. 
Where  could  she  find  some  one  of  her  own  race  and  tongue 
to  counsel  her? 

Down  the  driveway  a  jaunty  figure  of  modern  fashion 
came  striding  into  view.  It  was  Mr.  Oki,  Ely  representa 
tive  of  the  Beneficent  Society.  This  morning  he  wore  a 
suit  of  dark-blue  serge,  a  tie  of  coral  silk  and  a  very  modish 
derby  jammed  over  his  ears. 

"Ah,  Mrs.  Ely,"  he  smiled  as  he  lifted  his  fashionable 
hat,  "I  see  you  are  flourishing  like  the  green  bay  tree. 
And  how  goes  the  farm  by  now  ?" 

"I'm  having  rather  poor  luck  with  my  strawberries,"  she 
confessed.  "Possibly  you  could  give  me  some  advice." 

"I  have  just  been  over  there,"  he  informed  her.  "You 
cannot  expect  full  crops  from  such  old  vines.  Then  the 
strawberry  bug!  A  very  bad  pest.  The  state  agricultural 
school  can  suggest  nothing  to  stop  these  insects.  The  more 
you  discourage  them  the  more  they  come.  Something  like 
what  Mr.  McClatchy  says  about  the  Japanese !" 

At  the  last  remark  he  twinkled  and  giggled  merrily. 

"It  isn't  the  pest  so  much,"  Anna  explained.  "Half  our 
berries  have  been  rejected  by  the  shippers." 

"Oh !"    His  bushy  brows  went  up. 

"Mr.  Crane  says  they  come  to  him  so  bruised  that  they 
can't  be  shipped." 

"Look  out  for  that  Mr.  Crane,"  said  Mr.  Oki,  lowering 
his  voice.  "I  do  not  wish  to  disparage  this  gentleman.  He 
is  very  honorable  gentleman  within  his  own  lights.  But 
competition,  Mrs.  Bly !  It  is  a  cruel  thing." 


SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"What  could  Mr.  Crane  get  by  spoiling  my  berries  ?"  she 
gasped.  , 

"It  is  ver-ry  complicated,  Mrs.  Ely,"  declared  the  ele 
gant  Oki.  "And,  of  course,  it  is  hard  for  lady,  however 
well  informed,  to  run  a  farm  at  a  profit  nowadays.  I  wish 
I  could  give  you  some  advice,  Mrs.  Ely." 

"You  mean  you  want  me  to  sell?"  she  asked,  foreseeing 
his  next  remark. 

"Well,  I  would  advise  it.  A  large  syndicate,  backed  by 
American  business  men,  could  do  wonders  with  this  farm. 
The  Japanese,  after  all,  are  not  progressive  like  Americans. 
We  take  our  hats  off  to  their  enterprise.  California  agri 
culture  to-day  requires  scientific  farming  on  big  scale — just 
the  way  Americans  think  of  everything." 

"We've  come  here  to  learn,"  replied  Anna,  "and  it 
wouldn't  be  a  sporting  thing  to  sell  out  before  we've  tried." 

"Ah,  if  you  wish  to  experiment!"  He  smiled,  then 
added:  "I  am  not  buying  farms,  you  understand.  But 
some  enterprising  American  concern  could  do  wonders  with 
your  land." 

He  was  more  than  affable  to  Zudie  when  that  young 
woman  appeared,  picturesque  in  knickerbockers  and  a 
brownish  smock  frock  down  which  her  honey-colored  hair 
rilled  in  a  pretty  braid. 

Fluently  he  discussed  the  topics  of  the  local  colony.  The 
Buddhist  church?  Oh,  yes,  it  would  be  opened  with  a 
great  pow-wow  next  Sunday.  Mr.  Oki  giggled  as  though 
the  Light  of  Asia  were  a  great  joke  in  the  town  of  Ely. 
Oki  was  a  Christian,  he  was  quick  to  explain — none  of  that 
gong-banging  nonsense  for  him.  The  Beneficent  Society? 
It  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  temple.  Some  of 
their  members  were  Buddhists,  of  course,  just  as  Americans 
might  be  either  Catholic,  Methodist  or  Mormon.  But  the 
Beneficent  Society  rather  discouraged  Buddhism.  They,  as 
an  association,  were  inclined  to  prefer  Christianity,  a  very 
nice  religion,  which  made  the  Japanese  so  American ! 


A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT 

When  Mr.  Oki  had  gone  Anna  had  a  disturbing  memory 
of  Mrs.  Awaga  and  her  tragic  look  across  the  street  at  the 
gilded  pagan  emblem  surmounting  the  trim  new  Buddhist 
temple. 

All  the  Bly  family,  Susan  Skelley  included,  tried  berry 
picking  that  afternoon.  Kipps  appeared  in  the  patch  un 
invited. 

"What  are  you  doing  out  of  school?"  his  mother  asked. 

But  the  boy  looked  at  her  stubbornly,  rebellion  written 
on  every  line  of  his  freckled  face. 

"I'm  through,"  he  declared. 

"Kipps,  has  Miss  Barker  sent  you  home?" 

"No,  mother."  His  small  overalled  figure  stood  defiantly 
before  her.  "I've  sent  myself  home.  I'm  tired  of  being 
the  goat  in  that  place." 

"You  shouldn't  talk  that  way  to  me,"  she  reminded  him 
gravely. 

"I  know  it,  mother,"  replied  her  bad  boy. 

She  had  no  heart  to  discipline  Kipps  that  afternoon. 
There  was  much  to  be  done  before  nightfall.  When  she 
got  herself  a  berry  tray  and  tried  to  squat  among  the  vines 
as  the  Japanese  did  she  found  that  Kipps,  taking  matters  in 
his  own  hands,  was  working  beside  her.  It  was  back- 
breaking  work.  She  wondered  how  the  Japanese  stood  it, 
and  she  for  once  envied  them  their  short  legs. 

Zudie,  who  had  begun  the  day  with  a  lilting  song,  soon 
paled  in  the  sun  and  went  limping  to  rest  under  a  pepper 
tree.  Anna  tried  to  stick  it  out  till  sunset,  but  the  pain  in 
her  back  crept  up  to  her  head.  Shimba  and  the  industrious 
Matsus  crept  steadily  on.  Their  short,  crooked  legs  seemed 
to  carry  them  so  close  to  the  ground  that  they  had  scarcely 
to  bend  over. 

When  Anna  gave  up  to  join  her  sister  in  the  pepper  tree's 
lacy  shade  she  was  both  proud  and  angry  to  see  that  Kipps 
was  sticking.  Susan  Skelley,  scolding  industriously,  be 
cause  "Nobody  could  blame  th'  child  for  runnin'  away  from 


124  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

thim  Chinees,"  continued  to  pick,  far  in  the  rear  of  the 
skillful  yellow  people  whom  she  hated  so  whole-heartedly. 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  about  Kipps?"  asked  Anna 
of  her  weary  sister. 

"Just  what  we're  doing,"  answered  Zudie  sharply  with 
something  like  a  moan. 

iii 

Every  one  in  the  Ely  farmhouse  went  to  bed  early  that 
night.  Susan  Skelley  had  tucked  the  little  Blys  into  their 
beds.  By  half  past  nine  the  house  was  perfectly  silent. 
Only  Anna  and  Susan  Skelley  were  awake.  Across  her 
pillow  Zudie's  light  hair  fell  like  a  river  of  gold.  Through 
a  crack  in  the  door  down  the  hall  Anna  could  see  Susan 
Skelley,  her  skimpy  gray  hair  done  in  a  curious  topknot, 
sitting  angular  as  a  bean  pole.  A  pair  of  spectacles  sat 
crooked  on  her  sharp  nose  and  her  thin  lips  moved  as  she 
read  reverentially  from  the  pages  of  the  Irish  World. 

Anna,  seated  before  her  mirror,  studied  her  face  and 
remarked  that  she  had  grown  a  trifle  thinner.  There  were 
few  wrinkles  as  yet,  but  they  would  come.  She  was  very 
tired,  yet  her  brain  was  running  too  busily  to  admit  sleep. 
It  was  one  of  those  moments  when  the  weary  body  seems 
to  loose  its  hold  upon  the  soul,  to  permit  the  thousand  fin 
gers  of  the  spirit  to  reach  forth,  feeling  for  impressions  in 
the  empty  air. 

Silence  lay  upon  the  earth,  and  out  of  the  silence  there 
seemed  to  come  a  word  of  doom.  Anna  was  no  neurotic, 
but  she  had  grown  to  be  afraid  of  that  stillness,  that  ab 
sence  of  all  sound  which  closed  about  her,  hedging  her  in 
from  all  the  homely,  wholesome  things  she  knew. 

Hark!  Somewhere  from  the  moonlit  outer  world  there 
came  again  that  wail.  Night  after  night  she  had  heard  it, 
floating  thin  and  icy  clear  above  her  orchards;  and  now  it 
came  more  distinctly  than  before,  small  as  the  cry  of  a 
child,  yet  long-sustained  and  terrible.  The  listening  woman 


A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT 

felt  the  cold  of  fear  creeping  down  her  back.  Shimba  had 
told  her  that  it  might  be  a  coyote — only  a  werewolf  could 
have  uttered  a  cry  like  that ! 

Her  teeth  were  chattering  now  as  she  controlled  herself 
with  an  effort — restrained  her  impulse  to  gather  Zudie  in  her 
arms  and  weep  aloud  for  comfort.  Yet  she  stood  at  her 
bedroom  door  palsied  with  superstitious  terror  of  the  soil, 
sweet  and  commonplace  by  day,  giving  up  ghosts  by  night. 

Down  the  passage  she  could  see  Susan  Skelley  by  her 
door  crack.  She  had  dropped  the  paper  from  her  hands, 
and  frightened  eyes  glared  above  the  crooked  spectacles. 

"What  is  it?"  Anna  tried  to  say,  but  her  mouth  was  too 
dry  for  speech. 

She  stood  a  long  time,  fixed  in  dread.  Again  silence. 
Finally  she  moved  to  the  window  and  raised  the  blinds  cau 
tiously.  A  ragged  moon  was  rising  over  the  orchard  tips, 
which  stood  still  as  painted  twigs  in  the  immovable  air. 
She  pulled  down  the  blinds  with  hysterical  haste,  dreading 
another  cry.  But  there  were  no  more. 

At  last  she  turned  out  the  light  and  crept  into  bed  beside 
her  sister.  Every  muscle  in  her  tense  body  ached  for  rest, 
yet  her  eyes  strained  into  the  darkness.  She  scolded  herself 
for  her  childish  fear  of  the  dark  and  of  a  night  cry  from  a 
harmless  little  animal.  She  clung  to  her  sister's  sleeping 
body  and  seemed  to  feel  comfort.  After  all,  they  were  to 
gether.  All  the  faces  in  the  world  were  not  yellow,  smiling 
and  unfathomable. 

iv 

A  terrific  noise  roused  her  from  her  sleep.  Some  one  was 
pounding  at  the  side  door  below.  Anna  bounded  out  of 
bed,  slipped  on  a  wrapper  and  thrust  her  head  out  of  an 
upper  window.  On  a  square  of  flagstone  stood  the  farmer, 
Shimba,  a  lantern  in  his  hand,  his  big,  withered  face  up 
turned  in  terror. 

"What's  the  matter,  Shimba?"  she  managed  to  ask. 


126  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

? 

"You  come,  boss !"  his  heavy  tones  were  summoning  her. 

"You  come!    My  ode  wife!" 

Anna,  unable  now  to  speak,  looked  down  on  the  fixed 
stare  below  and  heard  the  repetition,  "You  come,  boss! 
She  make  herself  dead." 

Barefooted  as  she  was,  Anna  scrambled  down  the  stairs 
to  follow  Shimba's  guiding  lantern  along  the  driveway  to 
ward  the  garage.  The  door  stood  wide  open,  and  it 
scarcely  needed  the  feeble  light  to  show  the  horror  that 
dangled  from  the  rafters.  The  shapeless  body  swung  like 
a  bundle  of  old  clothes  above  which  a  ghastly  head,  hair 
disheveled,  eyes  staring,  fell  loosely  to  one  side. 

A  frozen  spectator  in  this  nightmare,  Anna  stood  there, 
unable  to  look  away,  unable  to  scream. 

"Can't  you  do  something?"  she  heard  her  own  voice  ask 
ing  quietly,  as  though  from  a  great  distance. 

"She  make  herself  dead!"  Shimba  kept  repeating,  his 
face  as  blank  as  a  round  stone. 

The  dangling  horror  swayed  slightly  on  its  noose. 

"I'm  asleep !"  Anna  told  herself. 

In  the  dim  lantern  light  she  could  see  the  familiar  objects 
of  her  new  garage — the  workbench,  the  oil  cans,  the  reddish 
inner  tubes  hung  on  a  peg.  She  laid  her  hand  on  the  fender 
of  her  car  and  felt  its  varnished  surface.  No,  she  was  not 
asleep. 

And  still  the  human  bundle  swung  there,  perfectly  still, 
as  though  it  had  always  been  a  part  of  the  place.  Shimba 
touched  it  and  again  it  swayed. 

"Don't!"  she  entreated  huskily. 

Then  it  was  that  Shimba  added  the  last  touch  of  horror. 

"I  cut  her  off!"  he  cried. 

With  the  agility  of  a  monkey  he  mounted  a  workbench 
and  began  haggling  the  blade  of  his  pocketknife  across  the 
yard  of  cloth  which  suspended  that  dangling  thing.  The 
body  fell  to  the  floor  like  a  wet  sack, 


A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT  127 


Anna  screamed  aloud  and  ran  toward  the  house.  Lights 
came  flooding  from  upstairs  as  she  stumbled  in.  Over  the 
stair  rail  she  could  see  Zudie's  pretty,  frightened  face. 
Then  Susan  Skelley  came  scolding  down,  uttering  maledic 
tions  against  all  Chinese. 

"She's  hanged  herself!"  screamed  Anna,  and  cried  over 
and  over  again  the  senseless  question.  "Can't  somebody 
do  something?" 

"You've  been  dreaming,  dear,"  said  Zudie,  coming  down 
to  put  a  soft  arm  round  the  huddled  shoulders. 

"I  haven't!    It's  there  in  the  garage." 

"I'll  see " 

Zudie  was  starting  toward  the  door. 

"For  God's  sake,  don't!" 

Anna,  clutched  tight  against  her  sister,  was  sobbing  and 
sobbing  on  the  stairs.  Outside  the  excited  rattle  of  Matsu's 
car  hurrying  toward  the  village  could  be  heard. 

"I'll  dress  myself,"  said  Zudie  as  soon  as  her  sister 
seemed  a  little  calmer.  "Then  we'll  see  what  we  can  do." 

Susan  Skelley  leaned  over  to  put  a  knotty  hand  on  Anna's 
shoulder. 

"Bed's  the  place  for  ye,  me  dear,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of 
bitter  kindness.  "And  thim  yella  diwils'll  be  the  death  of 
us  all— it's  the  truth  I'm  tellin'." 

But  in  spite  of  Susan's  supplications  Anna  still  huddled 
on  the  stairs,  unable  to  move,  praying  inanely  for  deliver 
ance  from  the  fear. 

"Ye'll  ketch  yer  death  there,"  Susan  scolded  on,  and  had 
just  laid  her  knitted  red  shawl  across  Anna's  shoulders 
when  a  deeper,  heavier'burr  of  machinery  was  heard  coming 
from  the  orchard  road.  An  instant  later  the  doorbell  rang. 

"Ye's  think  'twas  iliction  night  be  th'  noise  av  'em," 
shrilled  Susan. 

"I'll  go,"  said  Anna,    "I'm  all  right  now." 


128  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"Ye'll  do  nothing  av  the  kind !"  announced  her  dominant 
inferior. 

"Susan,  go  get  some  clothes  on !" 

This  appeal  to  modesty  had  its  effect  on  the  maiden 
Susan,  who  scurried  up  the  stairs  and  permitted  her  mis 
tress  to  answer  the  bell. 

Anna  switched  on  the  light  in  the  sitting  room  and  un 
bolted  the  door.  Reaction  had  set  in.  After  what  she  had 
seen  she  could  fear  nothing.  A  tall,  raw-boned  man  in  a 
leather  coat  stood  in  the  square  of  light,  his  florid,  well-fed 
face  beaming  amiably  under  the  brim  of  a  greenish  motor 
hat.  His  Anglo-Saxon  look  of  health  and  well-being 
seemed  to  bring  clean  air  into  the  poisoned  atmosphere. 

"Is  this  Mrs.  Ely  ?"  he  asked,  removing  his  cloth  hat  and 
showing  a  head  of  blond  hair  combed  back  pompadour  fashion. 

"Yes,"  she  faltered,  "I'm  Mrs.  Ely." 

"I  hope  you'll  forgive  my  walking  in  on  you  at  this  time 
of  night,"  he  grinned.  "But  I  heard  in  Japtown  that 
there'd  been  some  trouble  here." 

"My  foreman's  wife  has  just " 

She  was  unable  to  say  the  rest. 

"I  know,"  he  replied  consolingly.  "The  Japs  are  always 
pulling  something  like  that.  I  heard  there  weren't  any  men 
on  the  place,  so  I  thought  you  might  let  me  poke  round  a  bit 
and  straighten  out  this  mess  for  you." 

Anna  gazed  at  him,  wild  eyed,  again  bereft  of  speech. 
How  came  this  worldly  young  gentleman  into  the  wilder 
ness  just  in  time  to  be  of  service?  He  was  no  farmer  ap 
parently.  True,  he  wore  putties  and  stout  brown  shoes,  but 
he  wore  them  with  the  air  of  an  amateur  mountain  climber. 

"My  name's  Leacy,"  he  said,  apparently  recognizing  the 
necessity  for  an  introduction.  "I'm  a  farmer,  too.  I  run 
an  asparagus  ranch  down  on  the  delta." 

"I'm  so  grateful  to  you "  she  began,  and  stopped  in 

time  to  save  herself  from  crying. 

It  was  good  to  know  that  an  American  was  on  the  place. 


CHAPTER  XI:    DUNC  LEACY 

i 

THERE  was  little  sleep  in  the  Brand  house  that  night. 
The  worldly  asparagus  farmer,  Duncan  Leacy,  took 
the  ranch  under  his  own  management  for  the  short  period 
of  disturbance.  It  was  he  who  telephoned  to  the  coroner, 
quieted  panic  in  the  Japanese  huts,  took  charge  of  the 
county  officials  when  they  arrived  and  saw  to  it  that  the 
poor  tragic  body  out  in  the  garage  should  be  carried  away 
with  the  least  possible  shock  to  the  women  of  the  house 
hold. 

Dune  Leacy  seemed  to  know  everybody  and  to  call  every 
body  by  his  first  name.  To  him  the  coroner  was  Irv  and 
his  assistant  Harry;  the  raw-boned  farmer  who  drove  his 
car  he  addressed  as  Bud,  and  Bud,  not  to  be  outdone,  ad 
dressed  him  as  Dune.  Alert,  energetic,  pleasantly  com 
manding,  Dune  converted  the  ghastly  affair  into  a  matter  of 
business,  and  everywhere  he  turned  he  brought  sanity, 
order  and  good  nature  into  the  night  where  terror  had  but 
now  held  sway. 

It  was  well  after  midnight  when  Irv  and  Harry,  having 
made  a  conscientious  inquiry,  rolled  away  with  the  broken 
relic  of  Shimba's  past.  As  the  dead  wagon  was  departing 
Dune  said  something  to  the  officials  which  caused  a  laugh. 
This  was  the  only  jarring  note  which  had  come  to  Anna's 
ears  since  the  asparagus  farmer  took  charge. 

The  farmhouse  was  ablaze  with  light.  The  women, 
dressed  as  for  a  new  day,  were  astir  in  the  kitchen.  Only 
the  children,  exercising  the  prerogative  of  youth,  slept  se 
renely  through  it  all. 

129 


130  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

Anna  found  Mr.  Leacy  on  the  veranda  busy  with  the  col 
lar  of  his  leather  coat. 

"Oh,  have  they  gone?"  asked  she  faintly,  the  chug-chug 
of  the  death  car  coming  distantly  to  her  ears.  "I  was  going 
to  ask  them  in  for  a  cup  of  coffee." 

Leacy  grinned,  showing  his  strong  square  teeth. 

"You  needn't  bother  about  Irv,"  he  declared.  "He's  used 
to  it.  But  I'm  not,  to  tell  you  the  honest  truth.  I'd  cer 
tainly  be  grateful  for  the  strongest  drink  you've  got  in  the 
house." 

"We  should  be  the  grateful  ones,"  Anna  declared,  strug 
gling  for  words  with  which  to  express  her  gratitude.  "If 
it  hadn't  been  for  you  I  don't  know  what  we  should  have 
done." 

"Oh,  pshaw !"  was  his  manner  of  dismissing  the  subject. 

"It  was  perfectly  providential,"  said  Anna,  again  taking 
comfort  in  the  presence  of  this  tall,  blond  man  with  the 
clear  Anglo-Saxon  eyes. 

"I  was  in  luck,"  he  agreed.  "I'd  been  to  Sacramento  on 
some  law  business,  and  I  took  a  chance  on  dropping  in  on 
old  Akagashi  and  threatening  him  with  suit.  He'd  been 
breeding  trouble  in  one  of  my  packing  houses.  Say,  talk 
about  your  lawyers!  I'm  a  pretty  good  business  man  my 
self,  but  when  a  Jap  draws  up  a  legal  paper  he  deals  six 
jokers  to  the  pack.  Gosh,  that  coffee  smells  good !" 

"Won't  you  ask  your  chauffeur  in,  too  ?"  urged  Anna. 

Dune  Leacy  laughed,  and  the  sound  was  good  to  hear. 

"Chauffeur!"  he  roared.  "Why,  Bud's  my  right-hand 
man." 

He  leaned  over  the  railing  and  shouted  into  the  night. 

"Hey,  Bud!     Come  on  in  and  get  a  cup  of  coffee!" 

"Sure!"  was  the  cheerful  response. 

Dune  Leacy  and  his  familiar  Bud  came  into  the  kitchen 
and  joined  forces  with  the  volunteer  cooks.  While  Susan 
Skelley,  her  hatchet  face  cheerful  for  the  first  time  since 
her  arrival  in  California,  basted  eggs  in  bacon  fat  Leacy 


DUNG  LEACY  131 

insisted   upon   looting  the   pantry   for   cups   and   saucers. 

"God  helps  the  Irish,"  he  explained,  "and  all  others  help 
themselves." 

At  this  Susan  Skelley  was  heard  to  cackle.  It  was  a 
rusty  sound  coming  from  a  throat  unaccustomed  to  such 
weak  indulgences. 

"I've  often  looked  over  this  way  as  I  passed  by,"  Leacy 
informed  his  hostess.  "I  had  a  sort  of  fellow  feeling  for 
the  ranch.  It's  the  only  Yankee  name  hitched  to  a  piece  of 
property  in  this  region.  Nice  place,  too,  only  I've  wondered 
why  your  Japs  have  kept  on  drying  prunes  the  same  way 
Noah  dipped  'em  on  Mount  Ararat." 

"Is  our  prune  dipper  as  old-fashioned  as  that?"  asked 
Anna  somewhat  nervously. 

"About.  But  don't  take  my  word  for  it.  I'm  «  cradle  on 
modern  machinery," 

When  coffee  was  poured  and  eggs  were  served,  as  all 
good  eggs  should  be,  directly  from  skillet  to  consumer,  the 
members  of  the  party  seated  themselves  round  the  tidy  oil 
cloth  while  their  deliverers  fed  a  hearty  appetite  and  glowed 
with  good  digestion. 

Leacy  passed  his  cup  for  the  third  time,  and  as  he  drank 
he  talked  frankly,  boyishly  about  himself.  He  had  gone  to 
war  as  an  engineer  and  passed  the  adventurous  months  as 
a  lecturer  on  internal-combustion  engines  in  a  Middle  West 
ern  training  school.  During  his  absence  his  sister  had  taken 
the  asparagus  farm  and  grown  corn  for  the  Food  Adminis 
tration. 

Forty  years  ago  his  father,  trained  as  a  lawyer,  had  ac 
quired  five  hundred  acres  of  island  land  in  the  delta.  Chi 
nese  cheap  labor  was  the  politician's  cry  in  those  days. 
Labor  indeed  was  a  drug  in  the  market  in  the  splendid 
idle  8o's. 

"You  could  hire  a  Chinaman  for  forty  cents  a  day  then 
— just  think  of  it !"  said  Dune  Leacy.  "They  had  labor  to 
throw  away — just  as  they  always  throw  away  a  cheap  com- 


SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

modity.  Why,  dad  used  to  tell  me  of  an  English  engineer 
who  thought  up  a  bright  plan  to  dike  the  river  along  Venice 
Island  dirt  cheap — literally  dirt  cheap.  His  plan  was  to 
saw  bricks  out  of  the  peat  beds,  build  an  embankment  of 
it  and  hold  the  water  for  all  time  to  come. 

"He  put  eleven  thousand  Chinamen  on  that  job — eleven 
thousand  Chinks  at  forty  cents  a  day!  They  worked  like 
beavers  and  built  a  giant  dike  as  pretty  as  the  Tower  of 
Babel.  It  was  a  ninety  days'  wonder.  People  came  from 
every  corner  of  the  state  to  see  this  miracle  of  modern 
engineering. 

"It  was  a  grand  little  dike  all  right  until  spring  came. 
Then  the  snow  began  to  melt  in  the  Sierras  and  started  the 
old  Sacramento  climbing  like  a  squirrel.  One  morning  Mis 
ter  Etl^eer  woke  up  to  find  that  his  house  was  floating 
away  and  his  eleven  thousand  Chinks  were  navigating  on 
roofs  and  pieces  of  timber. 

"That  levee  was  a  grand  conception,  but  it  had  just  one 
least  little  weeny  fault.  Mister  Engineer  had  forgotten  to 
reckon  on  Nature's  most  stubborn  law — specific  gravity. 
Peat,  you  know,  is  lighter  than  water.  Throw  it  in  a  ditch 
and  it  floats  away  like  so  much  rotten  wood.  And  that's 
exactly  what  happened  to  the  Venice  Island  dike  when  she 
struck  high  water." 

Dune  Leacy  leaned  back  and  regarded  his  audience,  a 
speculative  look  on  his  sunburned,  boyish  face. 

"But  just  think  of  it !  Eleven  thousand  Chinks  at  forty 
cents  a  day!  With  a  gang  like  that  in  these  times  we  could 
build  a  system  of  safety  locks  across  the  whole  mouth  of 
the  Sacramento  and  save  the  delta  country  from  the  danger 
we're  always  afraid  of  in  dry  years — salt  water  backing 
up  from  the  bay  and  spoiling  the  soil.  Forty  cents  a  day !" 

"It  sounds  a  little  like  slavery,"  interjected  Anna. 

"Doesn't  it!"  agreed  Leacy,  studying  her  with  eyes  as 
clear  gray  as  her  own.  "And  I  sometimes  wonder  if  that 
isn't  what  farming  is.  Nature  is  the  hardest  boss  in  all  the 


DUNC  LEACY  133 

world.  She  lashes  us  with  storms  and  she  punishes  us  with 
droughts.  When  we  give  up  praying  for  rain  and  mortgage 
our  souls  for  new  irrigation  systems,  then  Nature  opens  the 
sky  on  us  and  floods  us  out  for  miles  round. 

"There  are  those  who  believe  that  farms  should  be  run 
by  Soviets,  with  workmen's  and  sailors'  delegates  to  tell  us 
when  to  start  and  when  to  stop — mostly  stop.  But  you 
can't  run  a  farm  by  blowing  a  whistle  at  nine  o'clock  to 
summon  merry  peasantry  with  dainty  lunch  baskets  who 
will  knock  off  promptly  at  twelve  to  enjoy  a  two  hours' 
organ  recital  in  the  model  assembly  hall.  It's  getting  almost 
as  bad  as  that  in  a  lot  of  places,  but  it  won't  work.  Be 
cause  why?  Because  Nature  is  the  darnedest  scab  in  all 
the  world.  There  isn't  a  labor  law  in  the  calendar  that 
can  keep  asparagus  from  growing  in  the  early  morning  and 
late  afternoon  and  during  the  night.  If  there's  no  one  there 
to  cut  it  and  the  crop  spoils  on  our  hands  Nature  should 
worry.  She  furnishes  the  germinating  instinct  and  the  life 
tissue  to  the  plants.  Then  she  passes  the  buck  to  humanity 
and  goes  her  happy  way." 

"Well  then,"  cut  in  Anna,  reverting  to  her  pet  theory, 
"under  such  conditions  doesn't  Japanese  labor  save  the 
day?" 

"I  never  said  that  it  did,"  answered  Leacy  with  a  grin. 

ii 

Without  explaining  his  evasion,  he  turned  again  to  the 
subject  of  himself.  He  had  been  educated  as  an  engineer. 
For  two  years  after  his  graduation  from  Cornell  he  had  de 
voted  his  time  to  problems  of  river  dredging  and  drainage 
canals.  Then  the  news  of  his  father's  death  had  brought 
him  back  to  the  delta  country  and  the  management  of  a 
ranch  which  had  prospered  indifferently  under  the  old- 
fashioned  system  of  cheap  labor. 

The  days  of  coolie  labor  had  passed ;  the  tide  of  Chinese 


SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

had  turned  back  toward  the  Orient,  and  the  Japanese,  am 
bitious  for  land  and  sharp  at  a  bargain,  were  competing 
with  the  whites  on  a  wage  scale  which  would  have  sounded 
ridiculous  in  the  easy-going  8o's.  Young  Leacy  looked  over 
the  land  with  the  eyes  of  an  engineer  and  saw  in  it  an  engi 
neering  problem  pure  and  simple. 

He  cast  away  the  slow  hand  devices  with  which  slavish 
coolies  had  grubbed  among  the  asparagus  ridges.  He  mort 
gaged  his  future  for  traction  plows  and  gas-driven  harrows. 
A  little  later  he  invented  an  ingenious  device  by  which  a 
gas-driven  caterpillar  can  pile  up  the  peat  ridges  acre  after 
acre,  where  once  a  multitude  had  sweated  in  clumsy  toil. 
He  set  up  a  laboratory  on  his  ranch  and  studied  the  chemi 
cal  eccentricities  of  peat  until  he  found  the  sun-born  acid 
that  destroys  crops ;  and  that  ha  learned  to  wash  away  by  a 
system  of  drainage  ditches. 

All  this  he  told  with  a  boyish  frankness  which  showed  no 
trace  of  egotism;  or  if  it  was  egotism  it  was  of  a  type  so 
pleasant  as  to  create  sympathy  in  his  listeners. 

"But,  Mr.  Leacy,"  smiled  Anna,  "with  all  your  wonder 
ful  inventions  you  haven't  been  able  to  do  away  with  labor 
entirely !" 

"I  wouldn't  say  that,"  he  grinned,  and  winked  over  to  his 
familiar,  Bud.  "I  have  two  hundred  and  eighty  men  on  my 
pay  roll  during  the  cutting  season.  That  includes,  of 
course,  the  packers.  But  the  grass  cutters  are  the  aristo 
crats  of  labor  on  our  ranch.  Some  of  them  have  made  as 
high  as  seventeen  dollars  a  day." 

"My  word!"  cried  Zudie.  "I  would  mow  lawns  myself 
for  less  than  that." 

"It's  some  harder  than  mowing  lawns,"  grinned  Leacy. 
"The  grass  cutters,  you  know,  are  the  fellows  who  jab  long 
spears  into  the  ridges  and  cut  out  the  green  asparagus — and 
it's  a  man's  job,  I'll  say." 

"And  what  would  you  do  without  Japanese  for  that?" 
asked  Anna  triumphantly. 


DUNC  LEACY  135 


"That's  the  joke  of  it!"  declared  the  farmer  engineer. 
"The  Japs  are  positively  n.  g.  at  grass  cutting.  And  I'll  tell 
you  why.  Do  you  mind  my  smoking?" 

Upon  Anna's  permission  he  produced  a  leather  case,  pre 
sented  it  to  Bud,  selected  a  cigarette  for  himself,  and  after 
a  puff  talked  on. 

"I  don't  know  why  there  has  been  so  much  bunk  circu 
lated  about  the  Japs,  unless  they've  circulated  it  themselves 
— they're  grand  little  circulators,  you  know.  Sentimental 
Methodist  missionaries  are  always  moaning  round  about  the 
wonderful  little  people  who  are  so  economical  that  they 
grow  three  hills  of  beans  on  grandmother's  grave,  water  it 
with  their  tears,  take  the  plants  in  at  night  and  thus  produce 
enough  grub  to  feed  the  whole  darned  family  for  a  year. 

"Now  there's  just  a  grain  of  truth  in  that.  The  Jap  is 
a  one-horse  farmer;  the  American  is  a  thousand-horse 
farmer.  Our  imagination  takes  in  the  whole  landscape, 
while  a  Jap  gets  down  on  his  haunches  and  rubs  a  dinky 
piece  of  dirt  between  his  hands. 

"The  superstition  has  gone  round  that  every  Jap  has  the 
brain  of  a  Harriman  and  the  body  of  a  toy  Hercules. 
Bunk!  The  trouble  with  the  Japs  is  just  this:  They're 
lacking  in  stamina." 

"No!" 

The  protest  came  from  Anna  and  Zudie  at  one  breath. 

"Strange,  but  true.  The  Japs  can't  compete  with  Portu 
guese  or  even  Hindus  at  grass  cutting,  because  they  haven't 
got  the  physical  strength.  They're  best  at  dainty  little  jobs 
like  picking  fruit  or  paddling  round  the  rice  plantations. 
If  you'll  ask  me  the  real  reason  why  Japanese  wives  work 
with  their  husbands  in  the  fields,  I'd  tell  you  it's  because 
the  men  aren't  a  minute  stronger  than  the  women." 

"Stop!"  begged  Zudie.  "You've  got  my  head  going 
round  and  round.  Everybody  I  talk  to  has  something  dif 
ferent  to  say  about  the  Japanese.  One  Californian  says 
they're  little  giants :  another  comes  along  and  declares  that 


136  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

they're  positively  anaemic.  I'd  like  to  know  who'll  tell  me 
something  reasonable  about  Japanese  labor." 

"There's  no  such  thing  as  a  Japanese  laborer  in  this  coun 
try,"  grinned  the  amiable  Mr.  Leacy. 

"Well,  what  in  the  world  is  it  that  we  see  picking  and 
hoeing  away  in  all  the  fields?" 

"A  lot  of  calculating  little  business  men  temporarily  em 
barrassed  for  capital.  In  a  year  your  Jap  will  have  saved 
a  stake  out  of  his  sky  scraping  wages — provided  the  fan-tan 
dealer  doesn't  get  it.  He'll  take  his  stake  round  to  the 
Beneficent  Society,  and  the  Beneficent  Society  will  see  a 
Japanese  banker  and  the  Japanese  banker  will  interview  the 
Mikado's  government;  anyhow  that's  my  personal  dope  on 
the  matter.  Nobody  knows.  The  next  you  know  your 
humble  worker  in  the  field  will  be  bossing  a  plantation  in 
the  name  of  a  minor  child  backed  by  some  highfalutin' 
stock  company." 

"He'll  have  to  employ  more  Japanese  to  work  for  him, 
won't  he?" 

"Sometimes.  Often  as  not  he'll  be  paying  wages  to 
Portuguese  or  Chinks  or  even  Yankees." 

"Well,  if  he's  more  frugal  and  enterprising  than  the 
Chinks  and  Yankees,  I  don't  see  why  he  shouldn't  be  re 
warded,"  declared  Anna  stoutly. 

"Neither  do  I,"  admitted  Leacy  with  a  glance  at  his  wrist 
watch.  "As  a  matter  of  fact  there's  a  lot  of  bunk  about 
Japanese  low  standards  of  living.  What  we  call  economy 
and  self-control  in  ourselves  we're  too  apt  to  call  low 
standards  in  the  Japanese.  If  a  man  wants  to  live  poor  and 
save  money,  it's  nobody's  business  but  his  own.  That  was 
Ben  Franklin's  theory.  But  just  the  same,  I  don't  see  why 
we  should  go  round  calling  the  Japanese  'laborers.'  Hello ! 
Half  past  two !  Nice  hours  for  farmerettes  to  be  keeping !" 

The  Brand  sisters  accompanied  their  guests  to  the  edge 
of  the  veranda  and  said  good  night.  Bud,  the  right-hand 
man,  blushed  painfully  and  said,  "Thank  you,  ma'am,  for 


DUNC  LEACY  137 

the  nice  time,"  ere  he  went  down  to  the  big  car  below  and 
shot  a  searchlight's  gleam  through  the  sleeping  orchards. 

"I  wonder  if  it  would  amuse  you  ladies  to  come  over  to 
our  place  on  the  island  for  a  party  to-morrow  night  ?"  asked 
Dune  Leacy  with  something  of  the  embarrassment  that  his 
right-hand  Bud  had  shown. 

"Oh,  what  fun !"  cried  Zudie,  always  thirsty  for  pleasure. 

"I'll  tell  sis — she's  my  boss,  you  know — and  she'll  be 
tickled  to  death.  If  you'll  come  we'll  send  the  car  over  for 
you  in  the  afternoon." 

"How  awfully  nice  of  you!"  said  Anna  in  a  voice  that 
betrayed  her  indecision. 

"We  don't  put  on  any  dog,"  he  assured  her.  "We're  all 
members  of  the  Overalls  Club.  But  if  you'd  like  to  look 
in  on  us,  and  it  suits  your  program,  just  ring  us  up  in  the 
morning,  will  you?  But  I  forgot — it's  morning  already. 
Sorry  to  have  kept  you  up  so  late." 

The  big  car  purred  cheerily  as  it  sped  away  down  the 
drive. 

"I  hate  to  see  him  go !"  declared  Zudie,  looking  after  the 
fading  ruby  light.  "I  could  sit  up  all  night  listening  to 
his  asparagus  romance." 

"He's  remarkably  agreeable,"  agreed  Anna.  "And  I 
shall  never  forget  the  nice  way  he  did  things  for  us  to-night. 
But,  of  course,  we  can't  go  to  his  party/' 

"Oh,  Ann!"  cried  Zudie.  "For  heaven's  sake,  don't  be 
a  prude!" 

"I'll  try  not,"  replied  Anna  with  a  cooling  look.  "But 
what  do  we  know  about  these  Leacys?" 

"He  seems  to  know  everybody,"  pouted  her  little  sister. 
"Just  see  how  he  called  the  coroner  by  his  first  name !" 

"I  don't  think  I  should  exactly  care  to  dance  with  the 
coroner,"  objected  Anna. 

"I'd  dance  with  a  skeleton,  I'm  so  crazy  for  a  party,"  de 
clared  the  frivolous  member  of  the  family. 

"I'm  sorry,  Zudie,"  said  Anna,  her  conscience  touched  at 


138  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

the  thought  that  her  poor  destiny  had  robbed  Zudie  of  her 
share  in  life. 

"But  then  if  you  think  the  Leacys  might  be  horrid  or 
anything " 

This  concession  would  have  settled  it  had  not  Susan 
Skelley  stepped  in. 

"Ye  ought  to  be  sinsible  about  something"  came  the  acrid 
voice  behind  the  screen  door.  "Here  ye  are,  two  hand 
some  ladies,  stuck  away  on  the  idge  o'  creation,  wit'  naw- 
thin'  but  prunes  and  Chinese  whose  lightest  idea  o'  fun  is 
to  go  hang  'emsilves  in  a  gar-r-rage.  If  ye  kape  away  from 
th'  gintlemen  a  year  longer  ye'll  be  losin'  yer  teeth  an'  yer 
good  manners  and  be  damned  for  a  pair  av  ould  maids." 

"Thank  you,  Susan,"  laughed  Anna,  regarding  the  slat- 
like  figure  and  the  hank  of  faded  hair  under  the  hall  light. 
"After  that  sermon  we  can't  fail  to  go  to  the  party." 


CHAPTER  XII:    A  DANCE  ON  THE  ISLAND 


SUNSET  found  them  rolling  pleasantly  into  the  dike 
country  along  the  smooth  levee  road.  To  Anna  it  was 
a  miracle,  so  different  was  the  character  of  landscape  from 
that  of  her  own  farm.  There  was  the  wonder  of  Califor 
nia;  hundreds  of  little  principalities  like  this,  each  with  its 
own  marked  individuality,  collected  into  an  empire  under 
the  bland  spell  of  the  Pacific. 

Dune  Leacy  had  brought  his  sister  with  him  when  he 
called  for  the  ladies  at  the  Brand  farmhouse.  Miss  Mari 
etta  Leacy  was  a  raw-boned  maiden  of  forty,  witty  and  ca 
pable,  as  the  modern  spinster  so  often  is.  In  her  angular 
way  she  resembled  Duncan;  but  it  was  obviously  another 
case  of  Nature's  injustice  in  permitting  a  whim  of  heredity 
to  throw  all  the  beauty  of  the  family  to  the  male  side. 
Anna's  Eastern-bred  soul  was  gratified  by  the  feeling  that 
Miss  Leacy  was  a  lady  born  and  sophisticated  in  the  world 
of  manners. 

Dune  and  Marietta  loved  each  other  with  the  rough-and- 
ready  devotion  peculiar  to  brother  and  sister. 

"Do  you  wonder  that  I  call  her  boss?"  asked  Dune  with 
a  grin  at  Anna. 

"Hyperbole  pure  and  simple,"  sniffed  the  boss.  "If  ever 
there  was  a  beaten  and  driven  female  in  the  world  I'm  it. 
Tending  your  furnace,  cooking  your  meals,  milking  your 
cow,  brushing  your  hair  and  reading  Henry  Adams  to  you 
when  you're  tired." 

"I  leave  it  to  you,"  said  Dune,  turning  his  florid  face  to- 

i39 


140  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

ward  the  Brand  sisters.  "Isn't  she  talking  like  a  suffra 
gette?" 

"There  he  sits  maligning  his  own  flesh  and  blood!"  de 
clared  Marietta,  pretending  great  indignation.  "He's  al 
ways  teasing  me  to  register  and  vote  for  some  silly  man  or 
other.  And  that's  his  revenge  on  me  for  remaining  purely 
feminine." 

"Woman's  place  in  the  home !  She's  a  cave  woman," 
Dune  explained,  and  looked  to  see  how  that  would  affect 
his  sister. 

"Well,  if  I  didn't  stay  in  your  home,"  upspoke  the  maiden 
lady,  "I  shouldn't  care  to  know  what  it  would  become." 

"I'll  hand  that  to  you,  boss,"  admitted  Dune  affection 
ately,  and  added :  "I  hate  to  spread  the  family  reputation. 
But  Marietta's  the  best  fore-and-aft,  up-and-down  little 
housekeeper  on  the  island,  bar  none  and  challenge  all  com 
ers." 

They  shot  across  the  drawbridge  and  turned  into  the 
Island  Boulevard,  which  wound  its  way  high  above  the 
pear  trees,  whose  candelabra  were  already  beginning  to 
bend  a  little  under  the  weight  of  pendant  green  pears.  A 
miniature  colonial  house,  neat  and  perfect  as  a  toy,  stood 
on  a  hillock.  Roses  climbed  its  trellises,  geraniums  flamed 
at  its  base,  and  down  the  gentle  slope  a  carpet  of  ice  plant 
lay  radiant  with  pinkish  bloom. 

"We  all  live  the  cafeteria  life  out  here,"  explained  Miss 
Leacy  as  she  unlocked  the  front  door  and  let  them  into  a 
pretty  redwood-paneled  room.  "We  have  no  servant  prob 
lems  for  the  simple  reason  that  we  have  no  servants. 
Dune,  it's  cold  as  a  barn  in  here.  Run  out  and  bring  in 
some  wood." 

"You  see,"  he  said,  turning  toward  his  guests  as  if  for 
corroboration. 

"You're  going  to  let  us  help,  aren't  you?"  suggested 
Anna. 


A  DANCE  ON  THE  ISLAND 

"Oh,  will  you  ?  We've  got  to  make  a  million  sandwiches 
and  whip  up  some  mayonnaise." 

The  Brand  sisters,  their  sleeves  rolled  up,  were  almost 
immediately  busy  in  the  spotless  kitchen  of  the  spotless 
house.  Zudie  cut  thin  slices  from  loaves  of  sandwich 
bread,  while  Anna  set  up  a  great  clatter  with  a  spoon  and 
bowl.  Marietta  Leacy,  her  large-boned  body  encased  in  a 
gingham  bungalow  apron,  v/as  everywhere,  managing  every 
thing. 

"Spiced  ham!"  exclaimed  Anna,  her  mouth  watering  at 
sight  of  the  tender  joint  being  eased  into  an  oven  of  the 
electric  range. 

"Sugar  cured/'  smiled  Miss  Leacy.  "I  hate  to  give  my 
self  over  to  the  prevalent  California  vice — which  is  boasting 
— but  I  must  say  that  our  state  raises  the  divinest  hogs!" 

She  was  lifting  lid  after  lid  from  pots  and  skillets  on  the 
top  of  the  stove. 

"Chile  con  carne,"  she  said,  sniffing  into  the  depths. 
Then  she  passed  over  and  peered  down  into  a  deeper  vessel. 
"Frijoles  in  olive  oil.  Do  you  hate  Mexican  cooking  the 
way  some  people  do?" 

"I  adore  it!"  cried  Zudie.  "It  burns  your  mouth  so  de- 
liciously — a  sort  of  pleasant  agony,  like  a  falling  in  love." 

"You  speak  from  experience?"  asked  Miss  Leacy,  stir 
ring  busily  at  a  juvenile  saucepan. 

"The  experience  of  thistledown!"  declared  Anna. 

Marietta's  rugged  face,  bending  over  her  work,  was  still 
and  thoughtful  for  a  moment. 

"This  house,"  she  said  at  last,  as  if  bent  upon  her  own 
topic,  "isn't  any  bigger  than  a  pint  of  cider.  A  farmer  used 
to  live  here,  but  Dune  had  it  remodeled  in  1913 — before 
the  war,  when  labor  was  plenty.  He  breaks  out  every  now 
and  then  with  a  plan  to  build  something  imposing  on  the 
English  style,  with  a  porte-cochere,  servants'  quarters, 
baronial  hall  downstairs  and  everything  on  a  large  scale. 
Dune  simply  can't  think  in  retail." 


SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"He  looks  at  things  in  a  big  way,"  Anna  found  herself 
saying. 

"He's  a  pretty  big  man,"  said  Marietta,  and  went  on 
stirring. 

Her  face  seemed  to  soften  with  the  praise.  Always 
Dune !  Her  heart,  unclaimed  by  husband  or  children  of  her 
own,  had  been  given  to  fostering  a  brother's  greatness. 

"Speaking  of  fire,"  drawled  Dune  Leacy,  having  stamped 
through  the  kitchen  with  a  huge  armful  of  wood  and 
dumped  it  noisily  upon  the  hearthstones  beyond.  "Speak 
ing  of  fire,  who's  done  anything  about  mixing  the  punch?" 

"Oh,  glory!"  shouted  Zudie  at  mention  of  the  forbidden 
word. 

"He  keeps  the  keys  to  the  cellar,"  explained  Marietta, 
as  though  confiding  the  secret  to  her  saucepan.  "He 
doesn't  so  much  as  let  a  dog  smell  the  door.  He  moans 
in  his  sleep  for  fear  the  prohibition  officer  will  set  fire  to  the 
house  and  take  away  his  kegs.  I  wonder  what  he'll  do 
when  it's  all  gone?" 

"That'll  be  about  1942,"  admitted  Dune,  swinging  a 
bunch  of  keys  on  the  end  of  a  chain. 

"Then  he'll  be  moving  to  France  and  teaching  the  farm 
ers  how  to  gather  grapes  by  machinery,"  Marietta  told  the 
saucepan. 

"There's  no  reason  why  that  couldn't  be  done,"  retorted 
the  farmer  engineer  as  he  retreated  toward  the  cellar 
door. 

Later  on,  when  they  were  setting  small  tables  in  the  liv 
ing-room  and  bringing  in  chairs  from  the  porch  and  bed 
room,  Dune  Leacy  asked  Anna,  "Do  you  like  to  dance?" 

"I  used  to,"  said  she. 

"We're  so  out  of  practice  that  our  knees  creak,"  com 
plained  Zudie.  "But  I'll  dance  if  it  kills  me." 

"It'll  kill  you  all  right,"  promised  Marietta,  "when  you 
hear  Bill  Huniker  making  night  hideous  with  that  old  clari 
net  of  his.  Dune  at  the  piano  is  even  worse." 


A  DANCE  ON  THE  ISLAND 

"You'll  never  hear  anybody's  knees  creak  when  once  we 
get  started,"  grinned  Dune. 

And  this  was  no  idle  boast,  as  events  proved  when  eve 
ning  waned  into  night. 

ii 

The  country  gentlemen  of  the  delta  came  trooping  in 
with  their  wives  and  fiancees  at  the  hungry  hour  of  seven. 
Superficially  they  appeared  to  be  any  members  of  any  golf 
club,  rejoicing  informally.  Everybody  was  on  intimate 
terms  with  everybody  else,  and  in  all  the  men  there  seemed 
to  be  that  spirit  of  young  adventure  which  gave  charm  to 
Dune  Leacy.  Many  of  them  had  been  college  mates.  Some 
of  the  families  had  intermarried ;  and  that  others  were  look 
ing  forward  to  such  a  happy  consolidation  was  evidenced 
by  Bill  Huniker's  younger  brother,  who  devoted  his  eve 
ning  to  the  golden-haired  daughter  of  a  prosperous  pear 
orchardist  from  up  the  river. 

Dune  Leacy 's  romance  seemed  to  be  progressing  also. 
She  was  a  vivacious  little  brunette  from  up  Oroville  way. 
Her  father,  Anna  heard  from  surrounding  gossip,  was  an 
olive  grower.  Her  name  was  Sallie  Bowen,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  deny  her  prettiness.  While  Dune  stood  at  the 
sideboard  slicing  sugar-cured  ham  she  was  always  at  his 
side,  pretending  to  help  while  she  adored  him  with  her 
Spanish  eyes.  Anna  wondered  if  the  girl  was  as  pretty  as 
Zudle,  and  her  protective  instinct  for  the  little  sister  caused 
her  to  sigh  and  wish  that  Zudie  could  fall  in  love  with  as 
fine  a  man  as  Leacy. 

After  the  ham  slicing  Dune  came  over  to  Anna's  table 
and  took  the  next  chair.  Sallie  had  a  seat  on  his  other 
side.  The  girl  from  Oroville  was  no  great  talker — or  did 
Dune's  attentions  to  Anna  pique  her  to  the  point  of  silence? 
Her  expressive  eyes  were  always  caressing  him,  and  once 
or  twice  they  exchanged  glances.  Anna  concluded  that 
Leacy  was  something  of  a  philanderer.  He  was  obviously 


144  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

a  favorite  with  the  ladies.  But  he  kept  up  a  running  fire  of 
banter  with  the  men  round  his  table. 

"Killed  any  Japs  this  week,  Artie  ?"  he  sang  out,  address 
ing  a  plump  young  man  who  seated  himself  beside  Zudie 
with  a  second  helping  of  everything  on  the  bill. 

"Don't  mention  'em!"  he  growled,  reddening  with  rage. 
"I'm  through — get  me? — through!  I'm  playing  Hindus 
now,  and  getting  a  day's  work  out  of  'em,  too." 

"Artie  had  a  gang  of  Japs  walk  out  on  him  last  week," 
explained  Dune  as  soon  as  he  found  time  to  occupy  the 
vacant  chair  at  Anna's  side.  "He  got  so  sore  that  I  thought 
he  was  going  to  declare  war  right  away." 

"Is  there  any  danger?"  asked  Anna,  scared  at  the 
thought. 

"Of  war?" 

Dune  and  his  belligerent  friend  Artie  grinned  at  the 
thought. 

"My  dear  lady,"  said  Artie,  after  a  mouthful  of  chile 
con  carne,  "the  war  is  on  right  now.  I  don't  mean  machine 
guns  and  battleships  and  tin  Kelleys.  The  hard-thinking, 
intellectual  old  gentlemen  running  the  Japanese  Govern 
ment  don't  want  any  more  of  that  sort  of  rough  stuff. 
They'll  never  run  amuck  the  way  the  Kaiser  did  and  bleed 
themselves  to  death  with  a  fool  military  program.  All 
this  newspaper  talk  is  merely  a  smoke  barrage  to  keep  our 
minds  off  what  Japan  is  really  putting  over." 

"Artie  was  an  officer  in  our  Siberian  job,"  interjected 
Dune. 

"Well,  what  are  they  putting  over?"  asked  Anna,  seeing 
here  another  aspect  of  the  deep-rooted  California  race 
prejudice. 

"Peaceful  war.  The  conquest  of  the  world  by  agricul 
ture,  commerce,  immigration,  secret  treaties,  counterfeit 
labels,  soft  words,  hard  bargains  and  the  Japanese  genius 
for  teamwork.  To  accommodate  their  little  expedition  into 
Siberia  I  saw  them  build  barracks  that  looked  big  enough 


A  DANCE  ON  THE  ISLAND  145 

to  put  up  half  the  imperial  army.  What  for?  To  send 
in  more  troops  and  fight  it  out  ?  Not  on  your  life !  Pretty 
soon  the  Japanese  troops  will  fade  away  and  those  com 
fortable  barracks  will  be  full  of  farmers,  tradesmen  and 
mechanics.  Shan-tung  all  over  again.  They're  the  greatest 
real-estate  men  in  the  world.  They  took  Shan-tung  for  the 
good  of  humanity,  and  they're  keeping  it  for  the  good  of 
Japan.  I  don't  blame  them.  If  I  were  a  Jap  I'd  do  the 
same.  There's  standing  room  only  in  Japan,  and  the  race 
is  suffocating." 

Artie's  editorial  was  cut  short  by  the  call  of  Dune's  boss. 

"Some  of  you  strong  men  come  roll  up  this  rug!" 

A  half  dozen  athletes  leaped  to  her  service,  and  the  floor 
was  cleared  for  dancing.  Dune  Leacy,  rolling  up  his 
sleeves,  squared  himself  on  the  piano  stool  and  came  crash 
ing  down  on  the  keys.  'Miss  Bowen,  unable  to  have  a  part 
in  his  new  work,  lingered  and  adored  a  moment  by  the 
piano  before  she  was  whirled  away  against  the  shoulder  of 
an  urgent  young  man. 

Bill  Huniker's  clarinet,  just  as  Dune  had  threatened,  was 
the  star  of  the  occasion.  No  sooner  had  its  gawky  owner, 
puff-cheeked  and  gnome-eyed  as  the  Pied  Piper,  pursed  his 
lips  over  the  reeds  than  the  instrument  shrieked  like  some 
wild  creature  at  death's  door. 

"For  the  love  of  Mike,  Bill!"  pleaded  his  wife. 

"I  can't  help  it,"  declared  Bill.  "I  found  the  baby  driv 
ing  nails  with  it  yesterday.  It'll  be  all  right  when  we  warm 
up." 

They  warmed  right  heartily  and  without  more  ado. 
Dune  Leacy,  revealing  a  fine  skill  at  ragtime,  rattled  the 
keys  to  the  jaunty  cadence  of  "You'll  Be  Surprised."  The 
awful  squalls  and  explosions  of  Bill  Huniker's  instrument 
added  a  certain  barbaric  excitement  to  the  tune. 

"It's  perfect  jazz !"  cried  Zudie,  clasped  against  the  ex 
pansive  chest  of  the  ex-officer  from  Siberia. 

Anna    shared    in   the   excitement   when    a   big-muscled 


146  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

planter  came  over  and  claimed  her  for  the  dance.  The 
room  was  populous  with  couples,  whirling  and  executing 
fancy  steps  to  the  strains  of  Dune's  orchestra.  A  young 
produce  broker  from  New  York,  suaver  and  paler  faced 
than  the  others,  cut  in. 

Here  was  life!  Anna  Ely  danced  and  danced  until  her 
feet  were  tired.  She  went  at  it  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of 
a  worldly  woman  who  had  been  robbed  of  the  pleasure  that 
had  been  food  and  drink  to  her.  And  it  was  for  Zudie  that 
she  was  happiest,  for  the  little  sister's  cheeks  were  like 
peonies,  her  eyes  a-sparkle  as  she  went  from  admirer  to 
admirer.  How  was  Zudie  to  endure  the  solitude  of  a  farm 
much  longer? 

At  last  Dune  Leacy's  hands  came  down  on  the  keys  with 
a  crash. 

"Aw,  say,"  he  roared,  "don't  you  people  ever  get 
tired?" 

"I  don't,"  declared  Bill  Huniker,  emitting  a  death  toot 
from  his  damaged  instrument. 

"If  somebody  will  choke  Bill,"  volunteered  Miss  Leacy, 
"I'll  play." 

Whereupon  there  ensued  a  strenuous  session  of  Bill- 
choking.  Enthusiastic  volunteers  sprang  upon  his  lanky 
form  from  all  sides.  But  Bill  Huniker  proved  a  most 
difficult  subject  for  the  amateur  garroters.  At  last,  how 
ever,  they  bore  him  down  by  superior  force  of  numbers. 
The  black-eyed  girl  from  Oroville  got  his  clarinet  away 
from  him,  and  Mrs.  Huniker  hid  it  somewhere  in  the 
kitchen. 

The  dance  went  on  to  Miss  Leacy's  energetic  thumping 
upon  the  keyboard. 

"I'm  hot  as  ginger,"  complained  Dune  after  he  had  tried 
a  dance  with  Anna  and  proved  to  his  satisfaction  and  hers 
that  he  needed  instruction.  "If  you  don't  mind  my  starting 
in  where  I  left  off  at  two  o'clock  this  morning  let's  go  out 
side  and  talk." 


A  DANCE  ON  THE  ISLAND  147 

iii 

As  they  moved  toward  the  veranda  Anna  had  an  im 
pression  of  dangerous  black  eyes  following  their  retreat. 
But  the  girl  from  Oroville  was  dancing  with  Bill  Huniker. 

They  found  a  seat  outside  amidst  striped  cushions  on 
the  comfortable  box  hammock. 

"I  suppose  you're  thinking/'  he  began,  "that  we  do*  this 
every  night.  Well,  we  don't.  But  it  all  goes  to  prove  that 
the  farmer  nowadays  has  something  to  do  after  dark." 

"Where  but  in  California,"  asked  Anna,  "could  you  find 
a  farm  party  like  this  going  full  tilt  in  the  midst  of  the 
fields?" 

"Speaking  in  praise  or  censure  ?"  he  quizzed  her  with  his 
Anglo-Saxon  eyes. 

"Oh,  praise !" 

"Pshaw!"  said  Dune  teasingly.  "I  thought  you  were 
going  to  knock  California.  I  sort  of  wished  you  would.  If 
we  only  heard  a  little  less  boosting  we'd  stop  being  the 
most  conceited  people  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  We've 
heard  so  much  of  the  oh-and-ah  business,  and  nice  tourists 
standing  saying,  'Ain't  Nature  grand!'  that  we  just  can't 
bear  to  hear  anything  but  praise.  We're  like  a  lot  of  prima 
donnas — perfect  drunkards  for  applause.  And  if  people 
don't  come  across  quick  enough  with  the  glad  hand  we 
begin  telling  about  ourselves.  We  have  the  grandest  sun 
sets  and  the  biggest  grapefruit  and  the  prettiest  women  in 
the  world — we  admit  it.  California  is  the  spoiled  beauty  of 
the  States." 

"Well,  you  have  everything,"  laughed  Anna,  not  forget 
ting  the  girl  from  Oroville. 

"Look  out!  Next  you  know  you'll  have  me  admitting, 
it.  Didn't  we  invent  the  oyster  cocktail  and  the  turkey 
trot?  Didn't  we  discover  that  salad  should  be  served  be 
fore  soup?  Haven't  we  Hiram  W.  Johnson  to  protect  us 
single-handed  against  that  perfectly  awful  menace,  the 


148  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

League  of  Nations  ?  We  live  in  an  empire  all  by  ourselves. 
We're  perfect,  and  getting  better  all  the  time." 

"You  must  be  terribly  bitter  against  your  state!"  cried 
Anna,  though  his  laughing  eyes  reassured  her. 

"No,  I'm  not.  But  our  self-satisfaction  sometimes  scares 
me.  State  love  with  us  is  an  infatuation.  It  almost 
amounts  to  a  religious  mania.  A  fire  and  a  quake  couldn't 
discourage  San  Francisco.  The  people  there  just  set  their 
city  back  again  on  every  hill  that  they  adored  and  would 
die  for,  and  when  the  job  was  done  they  went  to  work  and 
told  the  world  all  about  it.  We  Californians  are  like  the 
people  of  Gascony — incurable  boasters;  but  when  the  time 
comes  we  surprise  the  world  by  doing  just  what  we  said  we 
would  do." 

"Well,  you're  showing  a  humble  spirit,"  laughed  Anna. 

"We've  got  enough  to  be  proud  of,"  he  agreed.  "I  can't 
help  admitting  being  a  hypocrite." 

"Oceans  and  mountains  of  things !"  she  said. 

"But  the  trouble  with  us  is  that  under  the  skin  we're 
jealous  of  the  thing  we  call  the  East.  Very  few  of  us  will 
admit  that,  but  it's  so.  The  East  still  holds  the  reins  of 
power — more  wealth,  more  population,  more  tradition  be 
hind  it." 

"You'll  have  all  those  things  in  time,"  she  assured  him. 

Leacy  looked  over  the  moonlit  orchards,  and  his  voice 
took  on  a  note  of  prophecy  as  he  said :  "All  those  things  and 
more.  We're  destined  to  be  a  great  empire  and  a  freer 
race  than  the  world  has  known  before.  Civilization  will 
flow  and  flow  to  the  great  new  sea,  the  Pacific;  San  Fran 
cisco  will  be  another  city  of  the  world." 

He  fell  into  musings  again,  and  when  he  roused  himself 
he  brought  the  flat  of  his  hand  down  and  said :  "But  it's  got 
to  be  ours.  By  heaven,  it's  got  to  be !" 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  she  asked. 

Leacy  was  stirred  like  one  roused  from  a  dream." 

"Nothing  much." 


A  DANCE  ON  THE  ISLAND  149 

His  good-natured  grin  came  back  as  he  looked  round  to 
behold  the  girl  from  Oroville  standing  framed  in  the  screen 
door. 

"Shall  we  join  the  hilarity?"  he  asked  in  the  manner  of 
a  man  who  has  been  summoned. 


IV 

The  next  morning  he  coaxed  the  Brand  sisters  to  stay 
over  for  lunch. 

"I'll  loaf  a  day  if  you  will,"  he  promised. 

"Nothing  could  be  fairer  than  that,"  admitted  Anna's 
little  sister. 

Zudie  was  snatched  away  by  the  Hunikers  for  a  motor 
drive  round  an  adjacent  island. 

"As  a  professional  farmerette,"  declared  Dune  to  Anna, 
"it's  your  duty  to  see  how  we  do  it." 

Therefore  he  took  her  in  his  car  for  a  drive  through  the 
vast  asparagus  farms  and  the  extensive  acres  which  he 
owned. 

It  was  a  happy  morning  for  Anna  Ely.  To  be  taken  in 
hand  by  a  strong  man,  devoted  to  her  welfare,  was  a  com 
fort  to  her  feminine  heart.  Deny  the  truth  as  she  would, 
yet  it  was  so.  As  Dune  Leacy  turned  the  wheel  incessantly 
to  guide  them  over  twisted  roads  along  the  wind-swept 
island  she  woke  from  her  spell  to  wonder  at  the  starry 
spaces  dividing  her  from  the  life  she  had  known. 

Two  years  ago !  Was  it  but  two  years  ago  that  the  shock 
of  war  which  had  torn  the  breast  of  her  beloved  had  in 
flicted  so  sore  a  wound  in  her  own  heart  ?  Here  in  a  scene 
so  new,  an  environment  so  different  from  any  she  had 
known,  she  struggled  to  remember  the  thing  she  had  once 
struggled  to  forget.  It  might  have  been  something  which 
had  beautified  a  girlish  dream  and  passed  away  like  a  vision 
in  the  mist.  His  memory  was  fading  from  her  mind,  and 


150  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

yet  they  had  lived  nine  years  together  and  loved  each  other 
very  dearly. 

"Looks  pretty  much  like  a  desert  waste,  doesn't  it?" 
asked  Dune  Leacy's  voice  in  her  ear. 

Anna's  dreaming  eyes  woke  to  the  wide-spreading  acres, 
bare  ground  ridged  in  long  rows,  not  a  green  thing  showing 
anywhere. 

"Why,  you've  just  planted  it!"  she  exclaimed. 

Dune  Leacy  chuckled. 

"Under  those  dirt  ridges,"  he  said,  "there  lies  the  richest 
asparagus  bed  in  the  state.  The  roots  are  six,  eight  and  ten 
years  old.  If  you'd  been  here  a  few  weeks  ago  you'd  have 
seen  a  lot  of  stalks  shooting  through  the  rows.  We  were 
cutting  the  grass  green  then  for  the  New  York  market. 
But  the  trick  now  is  to  keep  it  covered  with  peat  soil  so 
it'll  come  white.  The  canneries  won't  use  anything  but 
white  asparagus." 

A  squad  of  Herculean  men  were  laboring  along  the 
ridges,  working  blindly  like  clam  diggers  as  they  thrust 
spade-ended  spears  through  the  soil.  After  each  thrust 
they  would  stoop  down  to  bring  up  a  handful  of  asparagus. 

"How  in  the  world  do  they  know  where  to  stick  their 
spears?"  asked  Anna,  astounded. 

"They  get  pretty  foxy,"  said  Dune.  "I  sometimes  think 
they  must  locate  it  by  sense  of  smell — they  never  miss  a 
shot !" 

The  grass  cutters  looked  up  showing  merry  Southern 
faces  crowned  with  curly  hair.  They  smiled  and  saluted 
jauntily,  a  pleasant  sight  to  see. 

"Portuguese,"   explained  the  farmer-engineer. 

"You  simply  can't  help  liking  them,"  said  Anna. 

"They're  a  good  sort  and  splendid  workmen,  but  they 
have  one  fault.  They  work  themselves  out  of  a  job  in  four 
months,  and  the  rest  of  the  year  they  loaf  round  the  city 
spending  their  money.  In  the  spring  they  come  back  to  me 


A  DANCE  ON  THE  ISLAND  151 

dressed  like  race-track  touts,  dead  broke  and  crazy  to  cut 
grass  again/' 

Over  the  broad  plantation  all  the  dark-skinned  tribes  of 
men  labored  in  the  sunny  wind.  Japanese  mechanics  drove 
caterpillar  tractors  up  and  down,  drawing  harrows  and  the 
ingenious  ridge-making  machines  of  Dune's  invention. 
Muscular  Chinamen  pushed  hand  cars  laden  with  the  new- 
cut  asparagus  into  washing  sheds,  where  other  swarthy 
people  kept  count  of  the  day's  gathering.  Out  of  an  irri 
gation  ditch  a  square-built  man,  dark  as  a  negro  but  with 
fine  Caucasian  features,  rose  and  smiled.  Above  the  ridges 
other  heads  peered  forth,  black-turbaned  heads  with  curling 
beards  and  fierce  dark  eyes. 

"Morning,  Dowli !"  called  out  the  master  of  the  place. 

"Morning,  sair!" 

"There's  too  much  water  standing  on  the  west  end  of  the 
patch.  Must  be  getting  pretty  acid  by  now.  Drain  'er  off." 

"Yes,  sair!" 

The  black  man  touched  his  hat  and  smiled  his  ingratiat 
ing  smile. 

"Portuguese?"  asked  Anna  as  soon  as  they  had  passed 
on. 

"Guess  not!"  drawled  Dune  Leacy.  "He's  an  East  In 
dian." 

"Strange,"  said  Anna.  "He  seemed  to  look  at  us  with — 
with  our  sort  of  eyes." 

"The  Japs  never  look  that  way,  do  they  ?"  he  asked,  turn 
ing  inquisitively. 

"I  suppose  not.     But  we  can't  hold  that  against  them." 

"I  can  never  read  but  one  thing  in  a  Jap's  eyes,"  he  con 
fessed,  "and  that's  a  desire  to  conceal  what  he  wants,, 
Camouflage  ought  to  be  a  Japanese  word.  Did  you  ever 
hear  of  the  Natural  Energy  Fruit  and  Land  Company? 
No?  Or  of  K.  Sato,  its  president?  No?" 

Since  Anna  was  unable  to  answer  to  his  satisfaction,  he 


152  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

returned  to  the  topic  which  his  sudden  question  had  inter 
rupted. 

"There's  a  Caucasian  strain  in  the  East  Indians,  some 
say.  When  this  man  Dowli  came  here  he  wore  a  turban 
six  yards  long  and  called  himself  Dhulip  Singh.  After  a 
few  months  he  took  off  his  turban,  forgot  he  was  a  Sikh, 
cut  his  hair  and  changed  his  name  to  Mr.  Dowli.  Sounds 
sort  of  Irish,  doesn't  it?" 

"Tell  me  one  thing,"  begged  Anna.  "Do  you  hire  all 
these  dark  people  because  the  labor  is  cheaper  ?" 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Ely" — Dune  had  stopped  his  car  to  exam 
ine  a  faulty  ditch  by  the  road — "there's  no  such  thing  as 
cheap  labor  any  more.  Every  laborer  from  cockneys  to 
Digger  Indians  is  charging  all  that  traffic  will  bear.  It  is 
another  case  of  supply  and  demand.  America  lost  some 
where  between  two  and  four  million  workmen  by  the  Euro 
pean  war.  We're  suffering  from  a  labor  drought,  and  the 
employer  is  paying  part  of  the  bill,  the  consumer  the  rest. 
If  you  want  to  run  down  that  illusive  devil,  H.  C.  L.,  just 
come  to  the  farm  and  see  how  much  it  costs  to  raise  a  hill 
o'  beans." 

At  the  hour  of  noon,  when  they  had  encircled  the  island 
and  were  headed  again  toward  luncheon  in  the  Leacy  farm 
house,  Dune  turned  his  clear  eyes  upon  her  and  asked  in  his 
direct  way,  "How  did  you  and  your  sister  ever  come  to  be 
running  a  farm?" 

"It  belonged  to  my  husband — originally  to  his  father," 
replied  Anna.  "And  I'm — I'm  a  widow.  Zudie  and  I  both 
wanted  something  to  do.  It  seemed  such  a  good  chance  to 
make  something  out  of  what  we  had." 

How  she  wished  that  she  knew  him  well  enough  to  con 
fide  her  troubles  with  the  strawberry  pickers ! 

"I  certainly  like  your  pluck,"  declared  he.  "With  that 
and  a  little  knowledge  of  farming  you  ought  to  pull  out  all 
right." 

"We're  learning  every  day,"  she  said. 


A  DANCE  ON  THE  ISLAND  153 

She  thought  she  could  trace  something  satiric  in  the 
steady  gaze  he  held  upon  her. 

"Everything  going  without  a  hitch,  I  suppose." 

She  had  been  on  the  point  of  taking  him  into  her  confi 
dence,  but  his  manner  turned  her  from  her  decision. 

"Oh,  splendidly !"  she  said.  But  after  a  pause  she  weak 
ened  sufficiently  to  add:  "What  a  figure  I  must  have  cut 
when  you  came  to  the  rescue !" 

"I  didn't  expect  to  find  you  pouring  tea,"  he  chuckled. 

As  they  were  climbing  the  hill  toward  the  white  gate  he 
cleared  his  throat  in  the  manner  of  a  shy  man  about  to 
speak. 

"I  hope  you're  going  to  let  us  get  a  look  at  you  now  and 
then,"  he  said.  "And  if  anything  bobs  up,  please  ask  us 
to  kick  in.  The  unexpected  is  always  happening  in  our 
business,  you  know." 

It  was  on  their  way  home  that  afternoon,  the  right-hand 
Bud  being  at  the  wheel,  that  Anna  and  her  sister  had  a 
chance  to  exchange  brief  views  on  the  subject  of  the 
Leacys. 

"Aren't  they  wonderful !"  exclaimed  Zudie,  speaking  into 
Anna's  ear  in  order  that  their  chauffeur  should  not  be  a 
party  to  the  conversation. 

"It's  hard  to  believe  that  anybody  could  be  so  nice,"  ad 
mitted  Anna.  "And  Mr.  Leacy's  enormously  interesting, 
I  think."  After  a  moment  she  added,  "He  has  nice  flat 


CHAPTER  XIII:    CONSCIENCE  IN  THE  TEMPLE 


AMONG  the  sheds  and  poultry  houses  to  the  rear  of 
the  Brand  farmhouse  there  stood  a  grim,  low  gallows, 
which  Anna,  since  the  suicide  of  Shimba's  divorced  wife, 
had  never  been  able  to  look  upon  without  a  shudder.  At 
the  end  of  a  stout  beam  projecting  from  the  inverted  L  a 
block  and  tackle  added  to  the  deathly  aspect  of  the  con 
trivance.  A  low  platform  stood  by  the  gallows,  and  right 
beneath  the  hanging  beam  a  primitive  furnace  arrangement, 
all  blackened  with  former  fires,  hinted  that  innumerable 
martyrs  had  been  roasted  and  hanged  all  in  one  grand  auto- 
da-fe. 

These  forbidding  devices,  as  a  matter  of  plain  fact,  had 
been  set  there  for  the  purpose  of  dipping  prunes ;  and  Anna 
lost  her  distaste  for  the  sight  as  the  season  waxed  and  fruit 
began  ripening  in  her  orchards.  The  ghastly-looking  con 
trivance  was  nothing  more  than  the  old-fashioned  prune 
dipper  which  Dune  Leacy  had  satirized  as  a  relic  out  of 
Noah's  ark.  From  that  gallows  tree,  she  knew,  a  basket 
would  swing  to  be  lowered  into  the  hot  lye  solution  in  a 
kettle  below.  Here  labor  would  be  busy  for  her  benefit, 
heavy  trays  would  be  borne  away  to  the  drying  grounds  and 
she  would  gloat  over  tons  of  potential  wealth. 

Anna  had  learned  from  her  occasional  talks  with  white 
farmers  that  her  prune-dipping  outfit  was  grotesquely  out 
of  date.  All  the  progressive  growers — particularly  in  the 
Santa  Clara  Valley,  where  the  prune  is  king — had'  adopted 
modern  dipping  machines,  in  which  the  fruit  goes  into  one 
end,  strikes  the  hot  lye  and  comes  out  of  the  other  end 

154 


CONSCIENCE  IN  THE  TEMPLE  155 

sorted  into  two  or  three  grades  and  neatly  spread  on  trays. 

She  had  priced  one  of  these  machines  in  Stockton,  and 
hesitated.  Already  she  had  spent  the  greater  part  of  her 
surplus  on  household  decorations,  an  automobile  and  the 
numerous  farm  improvements  which  Shimba  had  de 
manded.  But  she  had  resolved  upon  this  final  extravagance 
until  Shimba  had  shown  an  unexpected  desire  to'  save  her 
money. 

"That  very  old-fashion  dip  good  enough,  shank  you/' 
he  had  sipped  politely.  "We  use  him  considerable  year  be 
fore.  Japanese  boy  work  him  this  time  O.  K." 

Shimba  was  indeed  thoughtful  of  her  interests! 

Upon  the  afternoon  of  her  return  from  the  Leacy  ranch 
Anna  saw  two  figures  standing  under  the  gallows  tree  of 
her  antiquated  prune  dipper.  So  absorbed  in  conversation 
were  they  that  they  seemed  unconscious  of  the  big  car 
slipping  through  the  Ely  gate. 

Glowering  through  the  vines  of  the  veranda,  another  fig 
ure  added  a  final  touch  to  the  dramatic  picture.  It  was 
Susan  Skelley,  and  it  required  no  keen  observer  to  see  that 
her  pessimistic  eyes  were  spying  upon  the  two  figures  under 
the  prune  gallows. 

"What's  happened,  Susan  ?"  asked  Anna. 

"Nawthin'  yit,"  moaned  Susan  Skelley.  "But  wud  ye 
see  that  Chinee  dude,  now !" 

Peering  through  the  vines,  Anna  took  a  curious  view  of 
the  plotters,  and  was  relieved  to  see  no  more  terrible  per 
sons  than  Mr.  Shimba,  Esquire,  and  Mr.  Oki,  of  the  Benefi 
cent  Society.  The  attitude  of  the  farmer  expressed  respect 
verging  upon  awe;  the  fashionable  young  local  secretary 
stood  upright,  commanding,  as  he  indulged  in  gestures 
which  seemed  to  include  the  entire  landscape. 

"No  sooner  ye're  off  the  place,'5  croaked  Susan,  "than 
he's  on  ut,  an'  bad  luck  to  him.  Ye'd  think  he'd  mortgaged 
th'  far-r-rm  and  was  handin'  ut  over  to  th'  king  av  Asia/' 

Mr.  Oki  must  have  heard  the  querulous  note  and  caught 


156  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 


sight  of  skirts  among  the  branches,  for  he  turned  suddenly 
to  leave  Shimba  under  the  gallows  tree  as  he  came  jauntily 
over  to  where  Anna  and  Zudie  stood. 

"Ah,  ladies,"  he  smiled,  raising  his  pearl-gray  fedora, 
"let  me  welcome  you  home  again !" 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Oki,"  said  Anna,  not  exactly  pleased  at 
this  show  of  hospitality  on  her  own  farm. 

"I  hope  you  have  enjoyed  a  view  of  the  delta  country. 
And  this  Mr.  Leacy — a  fine  man.  So  many  of  my  people 
have  dealings  with  him." 

"Has  your  society  reporter  been  following  us  round?" 
upspoke  the  pert  voice  of  Zudie. 

"That  is  a  nice  joke  to  remember!"  he  giggled  amiably. 
"I  wish  I  could  remember  American  jokes!  Such  nice 
jokes!" 

Even  as  he  confessed  deficiency  in  American  humor, 
which  all  Japanese  at  once  admire  and  fail  to  understand, 
his  lavender-cuffed  hands  were  searching  in  his  pockets  to 
bring  out  two  small  boxes  adorned  with  flowery  tinsel  and 
bearing  Japanese  labels. 

"Permit  me!"  he  smiled,  handing  the  larger  of  the  pack 
ets  to  Anna  and  the  smaller  to  Zudie.  "These  are  some 
slight  memories  to  welcome  you  back.  That  is  tea,  Mrs. 
Ely.  Maybe  you  will  learn  to  like  our  green  tea — very 
good  vintage." 

He  sipped  through  his  teeth  and  bowed  again. 

"How  very  nice  of  you !"  declared  Anna,  wheedled  out 
of  any  annoyance  she  might  have  felt. 

Zudie,  having  stripped  the  paper  cover  from  her  parcel, 
found  a  slender  lacquer  box,  ornate  with  golden  birds  and 
flowers.  When  she  opened  it  she  discovered  a  number  of 
flat  gray  sticks. 

"Sandalwood,"  explained  Oki.  "Very  nice  to  burn,  if 
you  will  forgive  our  heathen  custom.  Its  smoke  keeps 
memory  warm." 


CONSCIENCE  IN  THE  TEMPLE  157 

"That's  kind  of  you,"  said  Zudie,  but  her  thanks  were 
less  cordial  than  her  sister's  had  been. 

"I  was  just  idly  loafing  round,"  Mr.  Oki  continued,  "wast 
ing  my  time  as  usual.  This  climate  makes  us  dream,  don't 
you  think?  And  all  day  I  have  been  wondering  when  you 
should  come  back  to  decorate  our  poor  surroundings.  You 
will  be  surprised,  Mrs.  Bly  and  Miss  Brand,  but  I  have  an 
invitation  for  you." 

"For  us?"  chorused  the  surprised  sisters. 

"The  Bly,  California,  Japanese  Buddhist  Temple  has  its 
official  opening  next  Sunday  afternoon.  Mr.  Akagashi  of 
the  drug  store  was  so  thoughtful  to  think  maybe  you  would 
like  see  it.  Therefore  he  appointed  me  to  be  your  host 
there." 

"Why,  Mr.  Oki,"  cried  Zudie,  "I  thought  you  were  a 
Christian  and  that  the  Beneficent  Society  would  have  noth 
ing  to  do  with  the  temple." 

"Ah,  do  not  misconstrue  us !"  he  begged,  with  his  cocoa- 
butter  smile.  "I  merely  go  as  a  favor  to  Mr.  Akagashi, 
who  is  a  Buddhist  quite  unofficially.  The  society  would 
abhor  to  interfere  with  any  religious  belief.  See  how  it 
allows  those  two  great  teachings  to  flourish  beside  each 
other  in  our  town !" 

"I  should  certainly  love  to  see  the  official  opening,"  ad 
mitted  Anna.  "And  thank  Mr.  Akagashi  for  thinking  of 
us." 

"I  shall  make  my  call  at  two  o'clock,"  said  Mr.  Oki  with 
a  diplomatic  flourish  to  his  modish  hat.  "And  Miss  Brand 
must  not  fail  us  also." 

ii 

The  days  that  followed  were  bleak  and  dull  for  Anna 
Bly.  She  had  lost  her  first  enthusiasm  for  the  golden  en 
terprise  which  had  brought  her  to  California.  And  the 
wanton  waste  of  her  berry  crop  had  wakened  her  to  the  seri 
ousness  of  her  task.  Not  onlv  the  whim  of  wind  and  water 


158  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

and  germinating  seeds,  but  the  whim  of  man  could  conspire 
toward  her  bankruptcy.  Shimba  had  managed  to  bring  a 
motley  throng  of  pickers  into  the  patch,  but  they  were  all 
too  few  for  the  work.  Anna's  own  poor  labor  on  hands 
and  knees  and  Zudie's  inadequate  groping  among  the  vines 
did  little  toward  saving  the  fruit.  The  strawberry  season 
was  already  on  the  wane,  and  they  had  fallen  three  hundred 
dollars  short  of  normal  profit. 

On  Friday  afternoon  Mr.  Cyprian  Helmholtz,  the  specu 
lator  in  farms  and  mortgages,  made  his  second  call  of  the 
season.  He  was  a  fat  little  man  with  pinkish  eyes,  hair 
and  complexion.  The  ill-concealed  scorn  with  which  he 
surveyed  the  ranch  set  Anna  against  him  at  once. 

"You  should  have  taken  me  up  when  I  offered  you  that 
eight  hundred  an  acre,"  he  said  with  a  sneer  which  he  had 
doubtless  intended  to  pass  off  with  a  smile.  "Shimba  tells 
me  that  the  berry  crop's  already  on  the  bum — no  sense  in 
growing  berries  on  this  soil  anyhow.  Somebody's  done  you 
dirt — and  I  can  tell  you  who.  The  shippers  've  been  send 
ing  your  berries  back,  calling  'em  damaged,  simply  because 
they're  oversupplied  this  year  and  don't  want  to  stand  up 
to  their  bargain." 

"The  shippers  claim  that  the  pickers  damaged  my  ber 
ries,"  Anna  defended  herself. 

"Bunk!  Shimba's  an  experienced  Jap.  This  isn't  the 
first  time  he  ever  saw  a  strawberry,  and  he  wouldn't  be 
letting  his  pickers  spoil  the  goods." 

Without  bothering  about  her  permission,  Mr.  Helmholtz 
lit  a  freckled  cigar  and  cocked  it  toward  his  right  eye  as  he 
announced:  "A  farm's  no  place  for  a  lady.  That's  what  I 
said  when  I  heard  you  were  coming  out  here.  There's 
more  tricks  in  this  business  than  you'll  find  in  a  box  of 
fleas.  Now  you  ought  to  take  my  advice  and  sell  out  before 
it's  too  late." 

"I've  already  had  a  larger  offer  than  you  made,"  said 
Anna. 


CONSCIENCE  IN  THE  TEMPLE  159 

"Who?" 

One  of  Helmholtz's  red  eyes  gleamed  round  the  freckled 
cigar. 

"Mr.  Oki  says  he  can  find  a  buyer  at  nine  hundred." 

"Don't  put  much  faith  in  what  that  Jap  says,"  cautioned 
the  speculator.  "But  I'll  tell  you  what  I  can  do.  I  can 
bring  you  in  an  offer  for  a  thousand  an  acre  to-morrow  if 
you'll  listen  to  reason." 

Anna  stood  thinking  for  a  moment.  Instinctively  she 
turned  her  pure  brow  toward  the  west,  for  out  there  she 
knew  dwelt  a  strong  man  who  had  promised  to  be  her  coun 
selor.  Then  her  ingrained  conventionality  raised  an  ob 
jection.  She  couldn't  lay  her  burdens  at  the  feet  of  a  man 
whom  she  knew  so  slightly. 

"I  think  I'll  keep  my  property,"  she  told  the  pinkish 
broker  at  her  side. 

"You're  very  foolish,"  he  declared  through  a  puff  of 
smoke  which  seemed  to  stifle  the  open  air. 

"Good  afternoon,"  she  smiled.  "You  can  drive  your  car 
right  round  back  of  the  house  and  get  out  by  the  other 
way." 

iii 

That  was  Friday,  and  it  was  on  the  following  Sunday 
morning  that  Anna  and  Zudie  dressed  as  for  an  occasion. 
That  afternoon  they  were  to  attend  the  opening  of  the  Ely, 
California,  Japanese  Buddhist  Temple. 

Out  in  the  little  brown  houses  by  the  river  preparations 
were  going  forward  on  a  more  elaborate  scale.  Mr.  Shimba 
and  the  Matsu  family,  all  of  whom  had  soaked  in  the 
family  bath  box  until  a  late  hour  the  night  before,  were 
arraying  themselves  in  splendor  befitting  so  rare  an  event. 
Four  of  the  Matsu  children — John,  Violet/ Mary  and  Clar 
ence — had  gone  to  the  Methodist  Sunday  school  in  purest 
white,  which  they  were  to  wear  later  as  lotus  children  at 
the  pagan  ceremony  across  the  way. 


160  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

All  morning  Mrs.  Matsu  had  worked  like  a  drudge 
among  the  neighborhood  women  who  came  to  her  kitchen 
to  help  make  fish  dumplings  for  the  big  spread  to  be  given 
in  the  loft  above  Akagashi's  store  after  the  dedication.  So 
busy  had  she  been  that  she  had  scarce  given  herself  time 
to  get  into  her  machine-embroidered  shirt  waist  ere  Matsu, 
arrayed  as  for  a  wedding  or  a  funeral,  bade  her  hurry  lest 
she  keep  forty  or  fifty  thousand  gods  awaiting  her  woman's 
vanity. 

The  streets  of  Ely  swarmed  as  they  had  never  swarmed 
before.  Many  prominent  Japanese  came  in  high-powered 
cars  from  as  far  away  as  Stockton  and  Ofu — which  the 
long-haired  ones  call  Sacramento — and  some  had  even  ven 
tured  forth  from  the  Mulberry  Port  of  So  Ko.  Most  of 
these  mighty  gentlemen  wore  black  frock  coats  which  fell 
robelike  almost  to  their  ankles.  Some  of  the  local  digni 
taries — notably  Mr.  Akagashi  of  the  general  store — were 
frock  coated  too.  Ely  was  proud  of  Mr.  Akagashi  that 
day,  for  out  of  the  seedy  sweater  and  cheap  overalls  of 
ordinary  usage  he  had  sprung  like  a  moth  from  a  cocoon, 
sleek  coated  in  the  respectable  costume  that  elder  statesmen 
wear  during  audiences  with  the  Mikado. 

Farmers,  unaccustomed  to  Sunday  clothes  and  worldly 
splendors,  came  rumbling  along  in  their  battered  flivvers. 
The  springs  creaked  with  the  load  of  wives  and  white-clad 
children.  Several  holy  bonzes,  especially  long  as  to  frock 
coats  and  bright  as  to  spectacles,  arrived  in  an  important 
carload.  K.  Fushigami's  Billiard  and  Pool  Parlor  had 
taken  on  an  ecclesiastical  atmosphere,  for  it  was  here  that 
a  very  holy  bonze  assembled  all  the  lotus  children  and 
painted  a  little  black  spot  over  each  eyebrow  to  indicate 
purity  in  the  sight  of  the  All  Wise.  And  to  each  child  was 
given  a  lovely  paper  lotus  flower,  while  an  amiable  lady  of 
the  congregation  moved  about  wiping  each  little  nose,  a  rare 
attention  in  the  quaint  town  of  Ely. 

At  the  hour  of  two  many  curious  yokels,  their  mouths 


CONSCIENCE  IN  THE  TEMPLE  161 

hanging  open,  were  drifting  in  and  out  of  the  brand- 
new  Buddhist  temple.  They  stood  in  knots  before  the 
proscenium  arch  with  its  lacquered  folding  doors  and  the 
great  golden  altar  whose  ten  thousand  carven  prayers,  sym 
bolic  urns,  incense  burners  and  scarlet  brocade  lining  had 
cost  six  thousand  yen  in  the  best  factory  in  Tokio. 

There  were  golden  lotus  urns  hung  with  prayers;  in 
numerable  bronze  incense  bowls  smoked  on  the  sacred  table 
before  the  shrine.  In  a  far  corner  of  the  room  sat  a  new 
upright  piano,  and  this  was  undoubtedly  the  shrine's  rival 
attraction.  The  white-clad  children  of  the  colony,  despite 
the  holy  spots  on  every  forehead,  behaved  like  little  demons 
round  the  fascinating  swivel  stool.  None  passed  the  piano 
without  running  stubby  fingers  over  the  keys.  Women 
carrying  babies  in  their  arms  and  clattering  the  prayer 
beads  round  their  wrists  stopped  to  smile  gummy  smiles 
at  the  enchanting  sound  of  the  stylish  American  instru 
ment. 

Shimba  gaped  among  the  crowd  out  in  the  lobby,  and 
with  wonder-stricken  eyes  he  read  the  names  of  many  hun 
dreds  of  his  countrymen,  faithful  worshipers  of  the  same 
Buddha,  written  on  innumerable  wooden  tablets  suspended 
row  after  row  along  the  wall.  Urged  by  a  vanity  peculiar 
to  no  one  race,  he  searched  rapidly  along  the  line  until  he 
found  his  own  name  written  among  the  rest — Shimba  Jiro. 
But  whose  name  was  that  displayed  so  neatly  in  Chinese 
script  on  the  tablet  beside  his  own?  Hana-san — the  wife 
he  had  foresworn  to  death ! 

Must  she  remain  forever  there  on  the  tablets  of  his 
family,  to  speak  to  him  in  her  ghostly  voice  even  at  the 
gates  of  Dai  Butsu?  Shimba's  knees  trembled  in  super 
stitious  awe,  for  like  so  many  of  his  people  he  had  mixed 
the  myths  of  Shinto  and  the  philosophies  of  Buddha  inex 
tricably  in  his  mind.  Here  in  the  presence  of  the  very 
shrine  which  old  Hana  had  worked  so  slavishly  to  buy  her 
name  glared  down  on  him,  accusing  him. 


162  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"What  do  you  think  of  our  temple  now,  Mr.  Shimba?" 
asked  a  cheerful  voice  in  English  at  his  ear. 

Turning  like  a  guilty  thing,  Shimba  beheld  Mr.  Aka- 
gashi  in  his  statesmanlike  garments. 

"Ah,  Honorable  Akagashi!"  cried  Shimba  in  his  own 
language.  "All  the  world  has  come  to  see  the  wonderful 
sight." 

"We  are  a  little  late,"  admitted  the  storekeeper.  "The 
High  School  Cadets'  Band  from  Stockton  has  not  arrived 
on  time." 

"Then  we  shall  have  a  band  also?"  asked  Shimba,  his 
eyes  brightening. 

"We  are  sparing  nothing  in  the  way  of  style,"  smiled  the 
great  one.  "I  wonder  what  the  Reverend  Professor  Awaga 
will  be  thinking  now?  They  say  he  had  very  little  to  do 
this  morning  save  to  open  his  church  and  close  it  again." 

"Most  of  his  congregation  were  home  preparing  for  our 
grand  opening,"  smiled  Shimba. 

"We  shall  do  nothing  to  injure  him,"  declared  Akagashi 
piously.  "Dai  Butsu  teaches  us  to  be  kind  to  all  beliefs. 
Also  the  Methodists  are  very  useful  friends  when  we  need 
them." 

Across  the  way  the  Reverend  Professor  Awaga,  his  tiny 
form  as  carefully  frock-coated  as  that  of  any  bonze,  could 
be  seen  gazing  spellbound  upon  the  moral  breakdown  in 
Ely.  His  wife,  the  little  teacher,  came  for  an  instant  and 
stood  at  his  side.  Then  the  two  disappeared  behind  the 
front  door  of  the  church. 


IV 

There  was  a  great  stir  just  then  along  the  main  street. 
The  High  School  Cadets'  Band,  borne  fashionably  in  twin 
sixes,  had  arrived  in  force.  Short-legged  men  and  women, 
each  with  a  string  of  prayer  beads  at  the  wrist,  came 
waddling  in  to  scramble  for  good  places  among  the  cheap 


CONSCIENCE  IN  THE  TEMPLE  163 

pine  chairs.  Members  of  the  cadets'  band,  noisy  and  un 
couth  as  sixteen  will  always  be,  swung  up  the  aisle  to 
reserved  seats  on  the  front  row. 

Presently  silence  fell.  The  priests  of  Dai  Butsu,  black 
silk  robes  over  their  American  clothes,  filed  in  to  sit  against 
the  wall  on  either  side  of  the  altar.  The  high  priest,  a  very 
holy  old  man,  who  had  founded  and  ordained  more  than 
sixty  similar  temples  in  the  state  of  California,  seated  him 
self  before  the  sacred  table,  his  back  to  the  congregation. 

A  dog  barked,  then  howled  dismally,  acknowledging  a 
kick.  Silence  fell  again. 

The  high  priest  raised  his  drumstick  and  smote  the 
bronze  prayer  gong.  A  trembling,  deep-toned  voice  of  Asia 
vibrated  through  the  bare-walled  room.  Scarcely  had  the 
echo  died  away  when  the  priests,  sitting  stiffly  against  the 
wall,  their  hands  folded,  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  altar,  began 
their  long,  undeviating,  monotonous  chant.  Shimba  did  not 
understand  it;  not  a  man,  woman  or  child  in  the  audience 
understood  it,  because  it  was  in  Sanskrit.  But  it  wailed  and 
echoed  like  the  soul  of  holy  Ganges  calling  the  world  to 
prayer  in  days  of  old. 

When  the  chant  had  ceased  there  came  a  clatter  of  many 
little  feet  from  the  rear  of  the  temple.  The  children  were 
coming!  A  hundred  of  them,  all  in  white,  each  one  carry 
ing  his  long-stemmed  paper  lotus  flower,  they  thronged  up 
the  aisles,  a  three-forked  procession,  toward  the  golden 
altar.  Children  too  young  to  walk,  gowned  in  white,  were 
carried  in  the  line,  Buddha's  two  sacred  spots  painted  on 
their  foreheads.  Their  flat  faces  impassive,  their  blossoms 
waving  mechanically,  they  advanced  like  a  snow-white 
army  to  gather  before  the  shrine  and  stand  during  the  high 
priest's  invocation.  Then  they  melted  away.  Again  the 
priests,  sitting  stiffly  against  the  wall,  chanted  the  mo 
notonous  repetition  of  Buddha's  holy  name. 

Presently  Mr.  Akagashi,  being  master  of  ceremonies, 
rose  briskly  and  took  the  platform.  His  appearance  was 


164  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

greeted  with  most  unchurchly  salvos  of  applause.  With 
many  smiles  and  nods  he  saluted  the  faithful  and  assured 
them  that  the  temple  of  Dai  Butsu  was  destined  to  become 
a  great  business  success,  as  all  great  things  should  be  nowa 
days.  He  thanked  the  farmers  for  their  small  contribu 
tions  and  added  that  money  had  come  miraculously  from 
wealthy  believers  all  over  the  state.  His  resume  of  the 
situation  hinted  that  Buddha  was  not  too  far  lost  in  his 
Nirvana  to  look  out  for  his  own. 

"Our  Most  Holy  Mikado  has  blessed  these  auspices,"  he 
added  in  conclusion,  "and  we  will  now  hear  a  selection  from 
the  High  School  Cadets'  Band/' 

The  High  School  Cadets'  Band  was  heard  from.  With 
out  further  warning  a  brassy  tribe  of  tubas,  trombones  and 
cornets  set  up  a  bray  that  shook  the  windows  in  their  sashes 
and  caused  the  priests  at  the  altar  to  look  round  from  their 
holy  meditations.  "The  Kansas  Honeymoon  March"  was  the 
title  of  their  selection.  A  wispy  youth  blowing  a  saxophone 
led  the  onslaught  upon  harmony,  punctuating  every  false 
note  with  jerky  movements  of  his  elbows.  The  people  of 
Little  Japan  sat  entranced,  glorying  in  the  sound,  and  when 
it  was  done  their  horny  hands  created  another  uproar  be 
fore  the  golden  shrine. 


From  a  good  seat  near  the  altar  Anna  Bly  saw  and  heard 
everything.  Mr.  Oki,  wearing  a  gardenia  and  all  that  goes 
with  that  fashionable  flower,  sat  beside  the  Brand  sisters 
and  translated  wherever  he  thought  it  necessary. 

"Who  is  the  stout  gentleman  just  getting  up  to  speak?" 
Anna  asked. 

"That's  Mr.  Edward  Akagashi — our  Mr.  Akagashi's 
cousin.  He's  a  banker  gentleman  from  Stockton." 

Mr.  Edward  Akagashi  was  a  great  favorite,  as  witness 
the  frequent  interruptions  for  applause.  He  spoke  earn- 


CONSCIENCE  IN  THE  TEMPLE  165 


estly,  with  the  exaggerated  movement  of  the  lip  muscles 
which  the  Japanese  employ  in  impressive  periods. 

"What  is  he  saying  ?"  Zudie  begged  of  her  interpreter. 

Mr.  Oki  was  silent  for  a  long  while,  then  he  explained. 

"He  was  speaking  about  our  inferiority.  He  say  that 
we  might  have  shorter  legs  than  white  men,  more  peculiar 
eyes  than  Americans;  that  our  teeth  sometimes  stick  out 
where  they  should  stick  in;  that  our  feet  are  sometimes 
crooked  where  they  should  be  straight " 

The  whispered  interpretation  was  interrupted  by  an 
avalanche  of  applause.  Anna  looked  back  over  row  upon 
row  of  little  men ;  she  had  the  impression  of  a  people  over 
worked,  underfed,  obsessed  by  the  problem  of  clinging  to 
this  poor  planet.  The  speaker  rippled  on. 

"What  did  he  say  then?"  she  asked. 

"With  all  our  faults  they  cannot  jeer  us  with  one 
quality,"  smiled  Oki.  "We  have  souls  the  same  size  as  any 
body  else!" 

"Indeed  you  have!"  said  Anna,  impressed  and  touched. 
Mr.  Oki  smiled  again. 

From  his  seat  farther  back  Shimba  took  in  every  word 
of  the  exercises.  To  his  peasant  mind  it  meant  little 
whether  it  was  Buddhist  or  Shinto.  The  sacred  ceremony 
had  been  ordered  by  the  Mikado  to  hearten  his  people  in 
a  far  country.  The  irrelevant  noises  in  the  room  irritated 
him.  He  turned  to  hush  a  pack  of  gossiping  schoolgirls 
who  whispered  together,  paying  small  heed  to  the  holy 
words.  Somewhere  outside  that  pestiferous  dog  barked 
again.  Somebody  laughed  inanely. 

Another  dignitary  occupied  the  platform.  This  time  it 
was  a  prosperous  fruit-land  operator  from  Stockton.  He 
was  a  thin  gray  man  with  prominent  teeth,  but  his  words 
burned  like  fire  into  Shimba's  soul. 

"It  is  written  that  the  seed  of  Yamato  shall  flourish  on 
the  soil  of  many  lands.  It  is  a  good  seed  and  it  shall  not 
die.  Here  in  this  land,  which  we  call  the  Rice  Country, 


166  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

many  barbarian  customs  hedge  us  round.  We  have  learned 
those  customs,  not  to  weaken  ourselves  but  to  grow 
stronger.  It  is  not  the  wish  of  our  holy  master  that  we 
should  depart  from  the  ways  of  Nippon.  Let  us  not  forget 
that  we  are  Japanese.  Let  us  bend  every  effort  that  we 
shall  remain  loyal  sons  of  the  sun-born  land! 

"And  it  is  with  that  thought  to-day  that  our  strong 
guides  in  learning  and  patriotism  have  dedicated  our  holy 
temple." 

Shimba  sat  entranced.  Yet  above  the  words  of  wisdom 
he  seemed  to  hear  the  cry  of  that  woman  whose  soul  the 
fox  spirit  had  maddened.  His  name  was  next  to  hers  on 
the  honorable  tablets  by  the  door.  Out  of  the  confusion  of 
his  dreams  he  heard  his  name  spoken  melodiously  from 
the  platform.  At  first  he  thought  it  only  a  part  of  his 
dream.  He  looked  again  and  saw  that  the  master  of  cere 
monies  had  taken  the  floor. 

"This  high-honorable  altar,"  the  speaker  was  saying,  "has 
been  given  to  us  by  the  humble  devotion  of  one  holy  woman, 
now  passed  to  her  reward.  With  her  own  hands  she  col 
lected  the  money,  going  from  door  to  door.  From  her 
place  among  the  gods  she  sees  it  to-day  with  the  eyes  of  the 
spirit.  Let  us  honor  the  name  of  that  very  pious  woman, 
Hana-san,  and  her  good  works  upon  earth  which  made  this 
very  holy  shrine  possible!" 

Shimba  the  farmer  held  tightly  to  the  rounds  of  his 
chair,  his  eyes  popping  through  the  slits  in  his  mask. 

"And  since  that  good  and  humble  woman  is  not  with  us 
to  speak  in  the  flesh,  let  me  call  upon  her  first  of  kin. 
Shimba- san,  honored  among  us,  will  say  a  few  words  in 
behalf  of  the  departed." 

Shimba  sat  perfectly  rigid  in  his  chair.  Every  sharp 
black  eye  in  the  congregation  seemed  turned  upon  him. 

"Shimba-san,  honorably  deign  to  ascend  the  platform," 
invited  the  speaker  with  a  smile. 

Stiff  as  a  ramrod,  Shimba  came  to  his  feet.     All  the 


CONSCIENCE  IN  THE  TEMPLE  167 

discipline  of  early  military  training  asserted  itself  as  he 
walked  punctiliously  toward  the  altar  of  Buddha.  He 
mounted  the  platform  and  poised  there,  a  man  of  wood 
from  head  to  toe. 

"I  thank  you  honorably  in  the  name  of  my  house,"  he 
said  mechanically,  and  bobbing  like  a  marionette  he 
marched  back  to  his  seat. 


vi 

It  was  after  four  o'clock  when  Anna  plucked  her  sister 
by  the  sleeve  and  led  her  away.  Mr.  Oki  accompanied  them 
to  the  door  and  protested  amiably  that  more  was  to  come. 
But  the  brassy  riot  of  the  High  School  Cadets'  Band,  the 
continual  passing  in  and  out  of  farmers'  wives — their 
bodies  bent  double  in  their  postures  of  politeness — the  smell 
of  incense,  fresh  paint  and  perfume,  the  singing  of  gospel 
hymns  with  Buddha's  name  clumsily  introduced  where  the 
name  of  Christ  had  been,  the  banging  of  the  prayer  gong, 
the  monotonous  rippling  of  Japanese  orators,  all  combined 
and  created  desire  to  escape  into  the  fresh  air. 

Once  outside  on  the  automobile-cluttered  street,  Anna 
turned  and  went  over  toward  the  Methodist  church. 

"Where  are  you  going  now?"  asked  Zudie,  herself  quite 
wearied  with  the  spectacle. 

"I  want  to  say  a  word  to  Mrs.  Awaga,"  said  Anna. 

"Why?" 

"I  really  don't  know." 

The  door  of  the  church  was  locked.  There  came  no 
response  when  they  pounded  at  the  rear  of  the  building, 
where  the  Awaga  family  lived.  The  Methodist  church 
stood  stark  and  deserted,  a  little  bleaker  and  uglier  than 
it  had  ever  looked  before. 

Anna  and  her  sister  walked  away  toward  the  farmhouse 
gate,  weaving  through  the  Oriental  throng  which — like 
themselves — seemed  to  have  become  bored  with  a  too  exten- 


168  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

sive  program.  Behind  the  double  row  of  automobiles  little 
boys  in  lotus-blossom  white  were  flying  kites,  running 
screaming  up  and  down  as  they  pulled  their  multi-colored 
playthings  against  the  wind. 

One  of  their  flying  monsters,  painted  to  resemble  a  great 
leering  face  with  golden  eyes  that  swiveled  in  the  breeze, 
darted  spitefully  across  the  sisters'  path.  It  would  rise  a 
little,  then  dart  down  like  some  infernal  demon  sent  to 
plague  the  white  people  off  the  face  of  the  earth. 

"They  get  on  my  nerves,"  complained  Zudie.  "They 
seem  to  come  straight  at  you  like  a " 

The  devil-faced  kite  gave  a  final  swoop  and  fell  clattering 
at  Anna's  feet.  She  stooped  with  a  smile  and  picked  it  up. 
Across  its  chin  were  written  the  same  characters  in  Jap 
anese — the  same  jet-black  characters  she  had  remarked  the 
first  hour  she  was  on  her  farm. 

"I  wonder  what  they  mean?"  she  asked,  raising  the  kite 
to  a  level  with  her  eyes. 

It  was  then  that  a  tall,  picturesque  tramp  who  had  been 
leaning  shiftlessly  against  some  one's  automobile  took  it 
upon  himself  to  join  in  the  conversation. 

"The  Japanese  kite  is  flying  very  high  in  this  town  to-day, 
isn't  it  ?"  he  ventured  in  a  cultivated  voice. 

Anna,  still  holding  the  kite,  looked  at  the  man.  It  was 
an  instant  before  she  recognized  him.  Nondescript  plaid 
suit,  greasy  Windsor  tie  and  long  yellow  face;  here  was 
the  Eurasian  wanderer  who  had  washed  windows  and 
philosophized  under  the  name  of  Henry  Johnson. 


CHAPTER  XIV:    THE  CHIMERA  AGAIN 


WHAT  a   fortunate   coincidence !"   said   the  eccentric 
Eurasian,    striking   a   picturesque   pose    before   the 
ladies.    "What  luck — but  wasn't  it  Emerson  who  said  that 
luck  wa?  merely  a  form  of  higher  mathematics?    Was  it 
Emerson  ?" 

He  scratched  his  wiry  black  hair  as  though  there  lay  the 
fault  of  failing  memory. 

"You  have  come  a  long  way,"  said  Anna,  secretly  rather 
pleased  to  see  a  familiar  face  again. 

"Haven't  we!"  smiled  the  chimera.  "But,  as  the  saying 
goes,  all  the  peoples  of  earth  meet  at  the  feet  of  Buddha." 

He  said  this  last  with  a  cynical  wink  in  the  direction  of 
the  temple  from  which  the  brazen  notes  of  trombones  and 
tubas  now  brayed  and  tooted,  indicating  another  selection 
from  the  High  School  Cadets'  Band. 

"Since  last  I  saw  you,"  went  on  Henry  Johnson,  "I  have 
been  touring  the  state  studying  your  interesting  American 
people.  I  have  been  arrested  for  vagrancy  in  five  cities, 
Fresno,  Los  Angeles,  Bakersfield,  Stockton  and  Merced.  I 
am  planning  a  return  trip  to  Japan  very  soon,  and,  being 
temporarily  embarrassed  for  funds,  I  have  come  to  you." 

Standing  in  a  shabby  suit  of  sporting  plaid — garments 
he  had  begged,  borrowed  or  stolen  somewhere — he  was  as 
fantastically  out  of  key  with  Bly  as  he  had  been  with  New 
York. 

"How  nice  of  you !"  laughed  Zudie,  moved  by  his  grand 
air. 

169 


170  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"How  in  the  world  did  you  find  where  we  were?"  was 
Anna's  pertinent  question. 

"If  all  my  investigations  were  as  easy  as  that !"  exclaimed 
Henry  Johnson.  "You  are  a  very  famous  lady,  Mrs.  Ely." 

"Am  I  ?"    Her  voice  was  a  little  nervous. 

"Among  the  Japanese,"  he  explained.  "The  Oriental 
wireless  telephone,  you  must  know,  is  a  very  efficient  thing. 
It  works  under  tables,  through  walls,  over  housetops. 
Possibly  you  would  call  it  gossip,  but  it  is  not  idle  gossip. 
As  far  south  as  Fresno  I  heard  them  mention  you,  but,  of 
course,  not  by  your  name." 

"What  do  they  call  me?" 

"The  foolish  one." 

"I  am  complimented." 

"It  is  thus  that  we  might  speak  of  a  butterfly  that  gets 
herself  stuck  in  fresh  asphalt  just  before  the  steam  roller 
comes  along." 

"The  steam  roller?"  echoed  Zudie. 

"In  this  case  fifteen  million  dollars  in  capital — and  as 
much  more  as  is  necessary — and  a  quite  considerable  back 
ing,  I  might  say." 

"You  are  speaking  in  parables,  Mr.  Johnson,"  declared 
Anna  none  too  cordially. 

"The  Natural  Energy  Fruit  and  Land  Company  is  no 
parable,"  he  smiled,  seeming  to  gain  good  humor.  "And 
K.  Sato,  its  president,  is  no  parable." 

"Who  is  this  K.  Sato?"  asked  Zudie,  who  had  a  way  of 
asking  the  vital  question. 

"My  dear  young  lady,  you  might  as  well  ask  me  who  is 
Thor  or — to  be  more  modern — Beatrice  Fairfax.  Possibly 
there  is  a  K.  Sato.  But  why  shouldn't  he  be  merely  an 
idea,  the  consensus  of  opinion  of  all  the  stockholders  in 
the  Natural  Energy  Company?" 

"That  is  at  least  sufficiently  unsatisfactory,"  Anna  de 
cided. 

"You  find  little  that  is  satisfactory  in  a  poor  thing  like 


THE  CHIMERA  AGAIN  171 

me,"  admitted  Henry  Johnson.  "The  American  half  of 
me  is  very  talkative,  and  like  so  many  of  your  countrymen 
it  is  wandering  through  Little  Japan  looking  for  a  job." 

"You  haven't  really  decided  to  work  for  a  living?"  ex 
claimed  Zudie. 

"Not  for  long — not  for  long.  But  my  passage  back  to 
Japan  will  cost  money,  and  I  have  no  desire  to  go  as  a 
stowaway,  though  I  was  not  too  proud  to  come  to  your 
land  under  a  bag  of  rice.  I  am  not  a  stickler  for  high 
wages.  Isn't  that  refreshing?  I  can  do  almost  anything 
rather  badly/' 

"Do  you  understand  an  automobile?"  inquired  his 
employer-elect. 

"I  drove  my  own  for  a  time,"  he  informed  her  lan 
guidly. 

"Would  you  live  in  the  Japanese  quarters  ?" 

"Rather  not!     They  wouldn't  endure  me  overnight." 

"Well" — Anna  thought  a  moment — "possibly  we  can  find 
a  place  for  you." 

She  wondered  why  she  so  much  as  considered  a  place  for 
him,  and  knew  that  she  would  make  one.  Henry  Johnson 
was  interesting  and  pathetic. 

"In  the  garage  under  your  car,"  suggested  he.  "Or  if 
you  have  a  horse  I  might  occupy  the  stall  next  to  him. 
That  is  quite  comfortable,  I  find." 

As  they  were  moving  away  a  Japanese  boy  in  a  white 
sailor  suit  came  forward  and  held  out  his  hand.  Anna  real 
ized  his  errand.  She  was  walking  away  with  the  painted  kite 
she  had  picked  from  the  road.  No  sooner  had  she  restored 
the  gaudy  plaything  to  its  smiling  owner  than  Henry  John 
son  stepped  close  to  the  boy  and  took  a  corner  of  his  kite 
between  thumb  and  finger.  Very  carefully  he  studied  the 
intricate  painting  of  the  hideous  face  with  its  golden  eyes 
set  on  swivels  to  roll  and  flash  in  the  breeze. 

"Ver-ry  interesting !"  he  exclaimed,  squinting  close  to  the 
toy  demon. 


172  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"What  are  those  words  written  across  it?"  asked  Zudie. 
"I  seem  to  see  the  same  characters  on  all  the  kites." 

"Yes  ?"    Henry  Johnson  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"The  Japanese  kite  is  indeed  flying  high  in  Ely,"  he  said, 
and  chuckled  softly  to  himself. 

Without  another  word  he  accompanied  his  employers 
along  the  driveway. 


CHAPTER  XV:    CHIZO-SAN 


WEDNESDAY  following  the  grand  opening  of  the 
Japanese  Buddhist  temple  found  Mr.  Shimba,  Es 
quire,  a  painfully  new  blue  suit  hanging  loosely  over  his 
knotty  form,  trotting  up  the  gangplank  of  the  Department 
of  Labor  tugboat  which  plies  between  Wharf  Five  and  the 
immigration  station  at  Angel  Island.  Early  Tuesday  morn- 
ng  the  Siberia  Maru  had  anchored  off  Alcatraz  with  a 
bumper  load  of  picture  brides  destined  for  as  many  hus 
bands  in  the  free  states  of  America. 

An  agent  of  the  Beneficent  Society  had  kept  Shimba 
posted  during  the  anxious  hours  of  waiting  in  a  Geary 
Street  boarding  house.  Mrs.  Chizo  Shimba — as  the  pass 
port  had  her  name — had  become  his  wife  by  long-distance 
arrangement  back  in  February,  shortly  before  the  new  law 
went  through  and  shortly  after  Shimba  had  got  his  divorce 
papers.  The  lady,  whose  face  he  had  never  seen  save  in 
the  glassy  stare  of  Japanese  photography,  had  been  taken 
to  Angel  Island  for  medical  inspection.  From  the  society's 
information  he  had  learned  that  Chizo-san  would  be  re 
leased  to  him  at  noon. 

As  the  tug,  whistling  hoarsely,  pulled  away  from  its 
wharf  and  churned  busily  into  the  stream  Shimba  began 
pacing  the  deck,  a  prey  to  nervousness  which  brought  him 
shame.  After  all,  this  was  but  a  woman.  She  would  be 
useful  to  him  next  year  when  good  business  fell  into  his 
hands  and  he  was  well  quit  of  the  present  disagreeable 
arrangement  with  Mrs.  Bly.  Chizo-san's  picture  indicated 
that  she  was  young — that  was  good.  He  knew  of  a  farmer 
in  Florin  who  had  been  tricked  into  marrying  an  old  one. 

173 


174  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

Shimba  had  had  sufficient  experience  with  old  women  for 
one  lifetime — the  wife  he  had  divorced  was  more  than 
thirty ! 

He  shuddered  and  hid  himself  in  the  lee  of  the  cabin. 
At  the  thought  of  the  old  woman  he  seemed  to  feel  that 
fox  enchantment  stealing  into  his  soul. 

"A  hundred  and  sixty-seven  came  in  yesterday,"  Shimba 
could  hear  a  nasal  American  voice  going  on  in  the  cabin. 

"There  sure  was  an  epidemic  of  marriage  when  they 
saw  the  time  was  getting  short,"  responded  a  foggy  bass. 

A  boyish  Japanese,  trimly  attired  in  clothing  as  new  as 
Shimba's,  came  swinging  round  the  corner  and  bobbed 
politely  at  a  sign  of  recognition.  This  man  was  Mr.  Furo, 
the  young  clerk  who  had  sold  him  a  suit  of  clothes  on  that 
unlucky  visit  to  Walnut  Grove. 

"Ah,  Shimba-san !"  began  the  boyish  fellow.  "I  am  told 
that  Mrs.  Shimba  also  will  be  waiting  for  you." 

"So  I  too  am  told,"  Shimba  grunted,  pretending  great  in 
difference.  "And  Mrs.  Furo,  perhaps?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

Shimba  saw  the  obvious  gleam  of  delight  on  the  broad 
brown  face,  and  this  confirmed  his  first  impression  that 
Furo  was  something  of  a  booby. 

"You  are  supplied  with  her  picture,  I  suppose?"  Shimba 
deigned  to  ask. 

"That  is  not  necessary,  Shimba-san.  We  will  know  each 
other  without  identification." 

A  softened  look  came  across  Furo's  face,  which  betrayed 
him  a  ninny  according  to  Shimba's  well-schooled  prejudice. 

"I  have  known  her  ever  since  she  was  a  little  maid  in  my 
father's  house,"  Furo  went  on,  talking  like  a  man  too  full 
of  his  subject  to  be  stilled.  "When  I  came  to  this  Rice 
Country  five  years  ago  I  promised  to  send  for  her.  Silly  of 
me,  wasn't  it?" 

"Perhaps !"  agreed  Shimba  gruffly  as  he  turned  away. 

Had  the  long-hairs  driven  this  fellow  mad?    What  sort 


CHIZO-SAN  175 

of  degenerate  had  Furo  become  to  be  talking  of  love  in 
the  same  breath  with  the  name  of  his  wife?  He  was  un 
worthy  to  be  called  a  Japanese ! 

Shimba  went  out  of  his  way  to  avoid  the  fool  when  their 
boat  touched  noses  with  the  Angel  Island  wharf.  A  number 
of  Japanese,  as  stolid  to  all  seeming  as  Shimba  himself, 
scrambled  up  the  walk  to  the  white  government  house  on 
the  hill. 

ii 

Chizo-san  sat,  one  of  a  long  kimono-clad  line,  on  a 
bench  in  the  women's  detention  room  upstairs.  Dainty  little 
women  they  were  in  their  modest  robes  of  dull  plum  color 
or  grayish  blue.  Above  the  deep  V  of  the  garments  folded 
so  sweetly  across  their  breasts  peeked  brilliant  scarfs  of 
flowered  brocade — orange,  purple,  pink  and  gold.  Beneath 
each  padded  skirt  a  pair  of  white-stockinged  feet  stood 
primly,  each  great  toe  stoutly  holding  to  its  sandal  thong. 
There  was  a  plain  gold  ring  on  every  left  hand  so  demurely 
resting  in  a  padded  lap;  twenty  heads,  crowned  with  the 
luxuriant  black  pompadours  which  had  been  carefully 
arranged  for  the  day,  drooped  slightly  as  black  eyes  turned 
timidly  and  small  mouths  moved  in  low  conversation. 

Chizo-san,  as  she  sat  there,  looked  very  young.  Her  soft 
skin,  her  tender  mouth,  the  puzzled  expression  of  her  eyes 
were  childlike  in  the  extreme.  They  were  little  ladies,  these 
immigrant  women  from  Japan ;  their  manners  were  as  dainty 
and  as  soft  as  the  silks  they  wore.  Gentleness — that  would 
be  the  one  impression  for  the  spectator  to  carry  away. 

"They're  meek  as  doves  when  they  first  come  over  here," 
the  American  matron  would  have  told  you  had  you  asked. 
"They're  too  patient  and  sweet  to  give  us  any  trouble. 
Once  in  a  while  they  commit  suicide,  but  they  never  com 
plain  about  anything.  Now  the  Chinese  women  are  differ 
ent.  They'll  scratch  and  bite  like  cats,  once  they  get  roused. 
Perhaps  it's  a  difference  in  the  way  the  men  treat  them." 


176  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

On  a  bench  beside  a  thin  woman  sat  Chizosan — Mrs. 
Chizo  Shimba,  as  her  passports  had  it.  Yesterday  morn 
ing  when  the  boat  came  to  anchor  off  the  fine  island  near 
So  Ko — which  the  long-haired  ones  call  San  Francisco — 
she  had  thought  that  her  man  would  be  there  to  meet  her. 
But  it  was  not  to  be  that  way.  With  as  quaint  a  chorus  as 
ever  stepped  out  of  "The  Mikado"  she  had  been  sent  in  a 
tug-boat  to  another  island  to  be  questioned  by  interpreters 
and  examined  again  by  trained  nurses. 

There  was  nothing  the  matter  with  her !  Why  shouldn't 
they  free  her  to  go  with  the  man  whose  honorable  photo 
graph  she  carried?  In  the  case  of  the  thin  woman  it  had 
been  different.  Kiku-san,  whom  the  passport  called  Mrs. 
Furo,  had  developed  a  severe  cold  a  week  out  from  the 
coast  of  the  Rice  Country,  which  the  long-haired  ones  call 
America.  Chizo  had  stayed  close  by  her  side,  because 
Kiku-san  came  from  Kobe  and  had  known  her  father's 
family. 

She  had  seen  the  poor  woman's  efforts  to  control  her 
coughing  during  medical  examinations ;  and  this  morning  as 
they  sat  together  on  the  bench  awaiting  the  hour  of  release 
Kiku-san  still  coughed  a  little,  though  her  thin  face 
betrayed  no  human  weakness. 

The  matron,  passing  up  and  down  the  line  with  letters 
and  telegrams,  handed  a  yellow  envelope  to  Kiku-san,  who 
regarded  it  helplessly,  then  surrendered  it  to  young  Mrs. 
Shimba. 

"You  are  a  scholar  in  the  American  language,"  she  said. 

Chizo-san  tore  open  the  flap  and  translated  the  brief 
message : 

"Will  be  waiting  for  you  again  to-day. 

"FRANK  FURO." 

As  soon  as  the  telegram  had  been  read  Kiku-san  cast 
down  her  eyes  and  asked :  "Do  you  think  I  will  be  looking 
well  when  he  comes,  Chizo-san?" 


CHIZO-SAN  177 

"Like  the  mulberry  tree,  Kiku-san,"  replied  Shimba's 
picture  bride. 

The  sick  woman's  eyes  were  still  lowered,  her  face  im 
movable  as  she  said :  "I  have  grown  older,  but  I  do  not 
think  he  will  care." 

"Love  is  not  for  strong  men,"  answered  Chizo-san,  half 
believing  the  hard-taught  maxim. 

All  across  the  broad  Pacific  she  had  heard  the  praise  of 
this  Furo  sung  in  her  ears.  How  wonderful,  after  all,  that 
Kiku-san  was  to  meet  and  live  with  a  man  she  had  known 
before ! 

"He  is  not  a  weak  man,"  declared  Kiku-san. 

At  this  moment  an  interpreter  came  in  to  announce  the 
morning's  medical  inspection.  Kimonoed,  sandaled,  pom- 
padoured,  the  pretty  chorus  stood  in  line,  shoulders  bent 
demurely,  not  a  sign  of  anxiety  on  any  of  the  doll-like  faces 
as  they  filed  slowly  toward  the  honorable  doctor's  depart 
ment  beyond. 

Chizo's  share  in  the  ordeal  amounted  to  little  more  than 
a  smile  and  a  tap  on  the  shoulder.  From  the  English  she 
had  learned  at  school  she  was  able  to  understand  the  doc 
tor's  words.  She  had  passed  her  examinations  among 
eleven  others.  The  rest  were  detained,  a  small,  sad  group 
in  a  corner  of  the  room.  A  nurse  had  pushed  a  chair  under 
Kiku-san  and  left  her  sitting  starkly  against  the  wall. 

"Is  it  decided  that  she  cannot  come  away?"  whispered 
Chizo  to  a  big- faced  little  woman  who  had  married  a  com 
mission  merchant. 

"The  lung  sickness,"  said  the  woman.  "She  will  be  sent 
to  hospital." 

It  was  about  noon  when  Kiku-san  came  out  of  the  doc 
tor's  office.  Chizo-san  would  have  spoken  to  her,  but  she 
was  filing  by  in  a  sorry  line,  attended  by  a  white-clad  nurse. 
The  thin  woman  looked  round  and  smiled  when  she  saw 
her  friend  still  waiting  on  the  bench. 

"Sayonara!"  she  called,  and  bobbed  her  head. 


178  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"Sayonarat"  replied  Chizo-san,  voicing  the  saddest  fare 
well  that  any  tongue  can  speak.  Just  then  an  outer  door 
swung  open  and  an  attendant  bawled:  "Number  Twenty- 
seven  and  baggage!" 

iii 

Shimba's  young  wife  sprang  to  her  feet,  to  be  handed 
her  bedding  roll  and  the  little  rattan  bag  which  contained 
her  bath  bowl  and  the  toilet  articles  which  had  kept  her 
dainty  as  a  bird.  Struggling  down  the  stairs  she  came  into 
the  big  waiting-room.  A  thousand  bold  eyes  seemed  to  be 
upon  her,  but  she  was  too  modest  to  look  any  one  in  the 
face.  She  stood  disconsolate,  alone  in  the  hostile  circle, 
and  she  was  about  to  flee  to  a  secluded  bench  when  a  rough 
voice  spoke  her  name. 

"Chizo-san?" 

"Yes,  Honorable." 

She  dared  look  no  higher  than  the  bright-blue  waistcoat. 

"I  am  Mr.  Shimba." 

For  an  instant  she  looked  him  square  in  the  face.  How 
old  he  seemed!  How  withered  and  knotty!  How  differ 
ent  from  the  unwrinkled  person  whose  photograph  she 
carried  under  her  kimono!  This  blue-coated  gentleman 
before  her  bore  a  vivid  family  resemblance  to  the  picture 
she  knew  by  heart.  Then  a  new  hope  inspired  her  as  she 
lowered  her  eyes  and  asked  timidly :  "Honorably  deign  to 
inform  me.  Are  you  the  father  of  Shimba-san,  my  hus 
band?" 

"I  am  Shimba-san,  your  husband,"  he  said,  lowering  his 
voice  lest  some  might  hear  this  embarrassing  turn  in  the 
dialogue. 

"I  thank  you  unworthily,"  declared  his  wife,  bending  her 
body  very  low  in  humble  politeness. 

'The  boat  leaves  in  fifteen  minutes,"  he  told  her.  "You 
will  find  a  seat  here.  Your  baggage  will  be  taken  care  of." 

Shimba  stood  outside  smoking  many  cigarettes  as  he 


CHIZO-SAN  179 

waited  impatiently  for  the  man  at  the  gangplank  to  give 
the  signal.  He  was  more  than  satisfied  with  his  bargain, 
though  his  pride  was  hurt  with  the  thought  that  she  had 
mistaken  him  for  his  own  father.  What  a  little  jasmine 
she  was!  Almost  he  weakened  into  stealing  a  glance  to 
ward  the  bench  where  she  sat  alone  awaiting  his  command. 
But  he  saved  himself  from  that  public  display  of  unworthy 
sentiment. 

The  young  clothier,  Mr.  Furo,  passed  him  hastily  and 
walked  down  the  wharf.  His  drooping  attitude  expressed 
disappointment  as  he  leaned  against  a  pile  and  stared 
vacantly  across  the  bay  water.  What  a  feeble  thing  this 
man  must  be  to  go  mooning  thus  before  all  the  world ! 

The  whistle  sounded  a  warning  toot.  Shimba  sprang 
forward,  fearful  lest  his  Chizo-san  should  be  left  behind. 
He  saw  her  little  blue  kimono  fluttering  toward  him 
through  the  throng. 

"This  way,  please !"  he  was  good  enough  to  tell  her,  and 
an  instant  later  she  was  following  him — eyes  lowered  and 
hands  folded,  as  becomes  a  respectable  wife — up  the  gang 
plank  and  on  deck. 

He  left  her  in  the  cabin  and  went  outside  to  resume  his 
smoking.  No  one  should  say  that  he  had  violated  the  code 
of  his  people  and  been  found  making  a  fuss  over  his 
woman  in  public.  But  the  vision  of  her  softened  his  heart 
for  an  instant.  It  had  been  so  long  since  he  had  seen  a 
Japanese  woman  in  all  the  sweetness  of  her  national  cos 
tume.  A  picture  came  to  him  of  a  narrow  street,  steep 
sloping  and  with  black-lettered  banners  over  the  shops. 
A  great  number  of  little  creatures,  kimonos  across  their 
breasts,  clogs  upon  their  white-stockinged  feet,  were  pass 
ing  in  and  out.  A  short,  stout  woman,  her  hair  already  a 
little  gray,  had  just  stooped  down  to  take  a  small  boy  in 
her  arms.  .  .  . 

"Nonsense!"  thought  Mr.  Shimba.  He  would  have  his 
woman  in  American  clothes  soon  as  possible.  Already  he 


180  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

had  arranged  that  a  fashionable  shirtwaist,  skirt  and  shoes 
should  be  waiting  her  at  the  hotel;  also  a  hat  with  a 
stylish  red  ribbon.  All  the  people  should  know  that  the 
Shimba  family  were  as  up  to  date  as  anybody ! 

The  lonely  Furo  passed  him  as  he  stood  against  the  rail. 
He  paused  an  instant,  raised  his  eyes  and  smiled  in 
scrutably. 

"Are  the  arrangements  delayed  again,  Furo-san?"  asked 
Mr.  Shimba,  determined  not  to  be  too  severe  with  this 
weakling. 

"Until  to-morrow,"  replied  Furo,  sipping  through  his 
teeth  and  bobbing.  "It  is  always  to-morrow,  Shimba-san." 

Furo  passed  on  again  and  continued  to  smoke  in  solitude, 
while  Shimba  considered  the  man's  case  all  the  way  across 
to  the  San  Francisco  side.  The  fellow  should  be  pitied, 
after  all.  With  women  harder  and  harder  to  get,  what 
would  Furo  do  in  case  his  wife  was  shipped  back  to  Japan? 

At  Pier  Five  Shimba  carried  Chizo-san's  baggage  for 
her  and  permitted  her  to  follow  meekly  through  the  crush 
of  drays  among  the  open  warehouses. 

A  fog-voiced  truckman  bawled,  "Pipe  the  Jap  an'  his 
chicken!"  as  they  passed,  but  Shimba  never  looked  round 
until  they  had  come  to  a  smart  line  of  hotel  busses  on  the 
cobbled  water  front. 

"Private  car,  Mr.  Shimba  ?"  asked  an  enterprising  yellow 
chauffeur,  stepping  beyond  the  dead  line.  "Price  of  one 
dorrar  to  Hotel  Meiji." 

Regardless  of  extravagance,  Shimba  permitted  his  bride 
to  step  after  him  into  the  luxuriously  padded  tonneau.  The 
car  headed  recklessly  up  Market  Street,  and  Chizo-san 
peeped  shyly  up  at  the  great  buildings,  then  lowered  her 
eyes  again  as  though  a  square  look  at  them  would  cause 
the  monsters  of  brick  and  concrete  to  come  tumbling  about 
her  head.  Beyond  her  first  words  at  the  immigrant  station 
she  had  not  opened  her  lips  to  her  new  husband. 


CHIZO-SAN  181 

iv 

"How  do  you  like  riding  in  this  fine  car,  Chizo-san  ?"  he 
asked  her,  deeming  it  not  unseemly  to  talk  with  her,  now 
that  they  were  alone. 

"Ah!"  she  exclaimed  politely,  passing  her  tiny  fingers 
over  the  second-rate  upholstery.  "It  is  remarkably  rich." 

She  turned  her  eyes  and  peeped  up  at  his  face. 

"You  don't  ride  in  such  fine  carriages  in  Japan,  do  you?" 
he  smiled  triumphantly. 

"Only  the  nobles  and  the  narikin  can  afford  to  ride  so." 

She  was  sorry  to  have  used  the  last  offensive  noun.  Pos 
sibly  Mr.  Shirnba  was  a  narikin,  which  is  the  wrord  to 
describe  the  vulgar  war  profiteers  and  noisy  new  rich,  who 
have  sprung  up  like  mushrooms  in  Japan. 

"One  must  have  more  than  five  sen  a  day  to  live  in  this 
country,"  he  explained  proudly.  "Here  we  have  chicken 
almost  every  week,  as  though  it  were  the  Emperor's  birth 
day." 

"Are  these  members  of  the  nobility?"  asked  the  picture 
bride,  now  openly  gaping  at  the  throng  passing  up  and  down 
Market  Street. 

Shimba  laughed. 

"You  are  very  green,"  he  said. 

"I  am  nothing  in  your  sight,"  admitted  Chizo-san.  "But 
behold  so  many  ladies  wearing  shirt  waists  and  skirts  and 
tight  black  sandals  with  a  high  peg  under  the  heel!  In 
Nippon  only  the  daughters  of  great  officials  appear  thus 
at  state  ceremonies." 

"Have  you  never  seen  these  long-haired  people  in  motion 
pictures?"  asked  Shimba  with  patronizing  indulgence. 

"Oh,  yes !  And  the  ladies  of  the  Rice  Country  all  dress 
like  this,  do  they  not  ?  In  one  motion  picture  I  beheld  the 
female  family  of  the  Honorable  Oo  Shi  (Woodrow  Wil 
son)  and  they  displayed  these  ceremonial  shirt  waists." 

"You,  too,  shall  go  forth  like  this,"  he  promised  her. 


182  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"I,  unworthy  to  do  so?" 

"You  shall  see,  Chizo-san." 

His  protruding  teeth  showed  broadly  in  a  grin  at  this 
last  promise,  which  was  made  good  almost  as  soon  as  they 
had  taken  their  room  at  the  Hotel  Meiji.  Boxes  and 
bundles  of  various  sizes  lay  across  the  ornamental  brass 
bed. 

"Open  them,"  commanded  the  husband. 

Chizo-san's  fingers  went  prying  under  the  paper  wrap 
pings,  and  when  the  lid  of  the  largest  box  had  fallen  away 
she  stood  back,  uttering  a  birdlike  note  of  admiration. 
Finally  she  took  courage  and  brought  out  an  elaborately 
pleated  plaid  skirt,  which  she  unfolded  reverentially  and 
displayed  at  arm's  length.  She  was  holding  it  upside  down. 

Not  even  at  her  wedding  dinner  which  the  Shimba  and 
Nohmi  families  had  held  in  February — the  bridegroom 
being  absent — had  there  been  such  a  lavish  display  of  food 
as  was  spread  before  the  newly  united  couple  in  a  back 
room  of  the  Hotel  Meiji.  Chizo-san  ate  little,  because  the 
sickness  of  the  sea  was  still  upon  her,  and  she  was  afraid 
of  this  strange  man  who  was  to  claim  her  forevermore. 

Shimba,  however,  was  in  splendid  appetite.  His  chop 
sticks  roved  busily  from  dish  to  dish  on  the  square  tray 
before  him.  Chopped  chicken,  raw  fish,  bean  curd,  sea 
weed,  egg  noodles,  pickled  radishes  he  plucked  skillfully 
between  the  two  sticks  which  he  held  pincers  fashion.  He 
raised  his  soup  bowl  constantly,  making  the  sibilant  noise 
which  politeness  demanded,  and  before  the  meal  was  over 
he  had  finished  six  bowls  of  rice. 

Now  and  then  he  would  cast  a  proprietorial  eye  upon  the 
lady  whom  he  had  equipped  regardless  of  expense  in  the 
latest  American  style.  Her  shirt  waist  alone  had  cost  him 
four  dollars,  and  he  was  proud  that  she  had  not  put  it 
on — as  he  had  feared  she  might — hind  side  before. 

The  meal  at  last  completed,  Shimba  sipped  a  bowl  of  tea, 


CHIZO-SAN  183 

which  was  thin  green  in  color  like  melted  jade.  He  deigned 
to  smile  again. 

"The  boat  for  Walnut  Grove  leaves  at  half  past  six,"  he 
informed  her.  "Till  then  let  us  enjoy  what  Americans  call 
the  moon  of  the  honey.  Come!  We  shall  go  together  to 
the  great  theater  of  the  town,  there  to  behold  Pickford 
O-Mary-san,  famous  among  the  long-hairs  for  her  remark 
able  art." 

"Shall  we  sit  together,  Honorable  One?"  asked  his  wife 
in  her  birdlike  voice. 

"I  shall  permit  it,"  he  said. 

Chizo-san  waddled  submissively  in  his  wake  toward  the 
street  car.  She  was  obsessed  by  a  fear  that  her  fashionable 
skirt  would  fall  off — it  trailed  in  the  rear  as  she  walked. 
Her  American  shoes  hurt  her  dreadfully,  and  she  had  an 
instinct  to  hold  them  on  with  her  toes,  as  she  had  learned 
to  do  with  her  sandals.  Her  hat  with  the  red  ribbon 
bobbed  first  this  way  and  then  that,  betraying  a  racial 
prejudice  to  her  high-built  pompadour.  Chizo-san  was 
very  miserable  for  a  while,  yet  wonder  overcame  her 
as  they  entered  the  dark  temple  of  many  seats,  where 
a  big  organ  squeaked  and  roared  while  gigantic  figures, 
some  of  them  in  clothing  like  that  she  now  wore,  anticked, 
wept,  battled,  loved  without  shame  on  a  great  white  cloth 
stretched  across  the  proscenium. 

Chizo-san  stood  in  the  aisle,  palsied  with  fright. 

"Sit  here,"  commanded  her  lord. 

"Aye,  Most  Honorable!"  she  whispered,  and  huddled 
beside  him. 


They  arrived  next  day  at  Ely,  having  driven  from  Wal 
nut  Grove  in  a  hired  car.  Many  of  the  sun-born  people, 
clad  strangely  in  the  costume  of  the  long-haired  ones, 
greeted  them  as  they  passed.  They  rattled  in  through  the 
white  gate  past  rows  of  ripening  fruit  until  they  stopped 


184  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

at  last  by  a  collection  of  shedlike,  low-browed  huts.  A  man 
in  a  rough  American  shirt  and  muddy  boots  came  smiling 
forward  to  remove  his  wide  straw  hat. 

"This  is  Matsu-san,  my  partner,"  explained  Shimba  in 
the  voice  of  ceremony. 

Chizo  bobbed  and  Matsu  bobbed. 

A  squatty  woman  in  an  enormous  sunbonnet  came 
waddling  out  of  the  hut. 

"And  Mrs.  Matsu,  my  partner's  wife." 

Mrs.  Matsu  and  Mrs.  Shimba  bobbed. 

Obediently  Chizo-san  followed  her  lord  into  the  house. 
The  dirt  floor  was  littered  with  domestic  rubbish.  On  the 
sleeping  platform  in  the  room  beyond  more  rubbish  had 
been  piled.  Here  was  none  of  the  exquisite  neatness,  the 
humble  beauty  of  the  little  home  she  had  left  across  the 
waters. 

And  yet  Shimba's  family  in  Japan  had  told  her  much  of 
their  son's  prosperity.  She  had  learned  to  think  of  America 
as  a  place  of  freedom  and  much  wealth.  Chizo-san  stood 
dazed  and  looked  blankly  at  the  seared  old  features  of  the 
man  she  had  come  so  far  to  meet. 

"Do  you  live  here,  Honorable?"  she  at  last  found  voice 
to  inquire. 

"Where  else?"  he  asked  her  roughly. 

She  stood  immovable,  her  face  a  stolid  mask. 

"You  will  find  work  clothes  in  yonder  trunk,"  said  her 
husband.  "We  have  wasted  a  great  deal  of  time  this  week. 
When  you  have  changed  your  clothes  come  out  and  I  will 
show  you  what  to  do." 

She  remained  immovable,  stupidly  staring  at  the  floor. 

"You  are  expected  to  be  industrious,"  he  informed  her. 
"Remember,  you  did  not  come  to  America  to  lead  the  life 
of  a  geisha." 


CHAPTER  XVI:    DUNG  MAKES  A  BET 


TT  was  a  morning  in  late  summer,  and  the  drying  north 
-"-wind  had  been  blowing  its  fiery  breath  across  the  valley 
until  fields  and  vineyards  seemed  to  smoke  on  the  verge 
of  conflagration.  In  that  oven  breath  grapes  withered  be 
fore  they  ripened  on  the  vine,  though  the  harvest  season 
had  already  come  to  some  of  the  ranches.  Only  yesterday 
Anna  had  been  driven  by  Henry  Johnson  as  far  as  Lodi, 
where  the  hot  fields  were  populous  with  workers  gathering 
heavy  clusters  of  the  amethystine  globes. 

The  world  which  had  blossomed  so  invitingly  for  Anna 
upon  the  day  of  her  arrival  had  grown  sere  with  the  prog 
ress  of  the  crop.  Branches  were  borne  down  with  brilliant 
blue  fruit,  but  dust  lay  heavy  on  the  boughs  or  flew  away 
in  brown  clouds  to  gather  in  brown  shapes  and  disappear 
among  the  foothills.  The  river  banks  had  lost  their  fresh 
color;  their  foreheads,  topped  with  seeding  grasses,  blew 
silvery  as  though  old  age  had  come  upon  a  savage  god  while 
he  lay  asleep  in  the  sun. 

Anna  Ely,  as  she  came  to  her  veranda  and  looked 
through  the  dry  leaves,  had  changed  a  little  too.  Life  out 
of  doors  had  tinted  her  cheeks  a  soft  brown.  She  had  not 
grown  bent  with  toil,  as  Tazumi  had  predicted,  but  her 
figure  was  slimmer  than  it  had  been  since  girlhood.  As  she 
stood  there  in  her  simple  muslin  gown,  the  mass  of  her 
dark  hair  artlessly  coiled,  she  showed  the  influence  of  her 
season  in  a  new  environment.  The  mark  of  sorrow  had 
faded  from  her  face,  but  something  else  had  come  there 
— something  more  disturbing.  The  mouth  which  she  had 
schooled  so  long  to  utter  no  complaint  had  become  a  little 

185 


186  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

wistful,  and  her  clear  gray  eyes  roved  over  the  orchards 
with  a  look  that  suggested  both  worry  and  unrest. 

Up  the  path  from  the  Japanese  camp  she  saw  Shimba, 
the  farmer,  shuffling  toward  the  porch.  He  held  something 
between  his  open  palms,  and  his  whole  attitude  was  like 
that  of  a  pilgrim  bringing  offerings  to  a  shrine. 

"What  have  you  got  there,  Shimba?"  asked  Anna  from 
her  height. 

"Prune!"  he  giggled,  and  revealed  a  double  handful  of 
small  blue  plums,  which  he  laid  on  the  steps  and  smiled  his 
toothful  benediction. 

"Pretty  soon  those  prune  will  be  finish/'  he  announced, 
proud  as  though  he  had  had  a  share  in  the  ripening  process. 

"These  are  ready  to  dry  now,  aren't  they?"  she  asked, 
seating  herself  on  the  upper  step  and  examining  the  pretty 
fruit. 

Shimba  laughed  at  her  joke. 

"When  they  jump  off  tree  then  prune  make  ripe,"  he 
explained. 

"How  soon  will  the  jumping  begin?"  she  asked. 

"Two  week  come  plenty.  Maybe  rain  drop  first.  That 
make  crop  all  spoilt." 

"No  fear  of  rain  now,"  said  Anna  cheerfully. 

"Somebody  can't  tell,"  he  gloomed. 

Two  weeks !  Anna's  eyes  grew  dreamy  with  the  thought 
of  harvest  time,  that  last  dramatic  act  in  the  farmer's  year. 

"Think  of  it!"  she  cried.  "I  hope  you've  arranged  for 
pickers.  They  say  that  labor's  dreadfully  scarce." 

Shimba  giggled  again. 

"I  got  plenty  good  boy  long  time,"  he  informed  her. 

"You  think  of  everything,  Shimba,"  she  complimented 
him. 

His  face  was  perfectly  solemn,  his  eyes  as  hard  as  agate 
as  he  replied,  "I  think  sufficient." 

He  picked  up  one  of  the  ripening  prunes  and  turned  it 
over  in  his  horny  palm. 


DUNG  MAKES  A  BET  187 

"Japanese  boy  from  Santa  Crara  catch  fourteen  cen'  a 
poun',  best  grade  prune,"  he  grunted.  "We  catch  twerve 
cenV 

"What's  the  matter  with  our  prunes?"  she  asked,  though 
what  he  told  her  had  ceased  to  be  news. 

"Too  good.  That  'mission  merchant  make  contract  by 
me  last  year — two  year  prunes  fo'  twerve  cen'." 

"We'll  lose  on  that,"  she  sighed. 

"Farmer  all  time  lose,"  he  told  her,  smiling  at  the  dis 
agreeable  announcement. 

He  was  turning  away  when  she  stopped  him  with  a 
question  which  she  seldom  asked,  since  it  was  her  policy  to 
interfere  as  little  as  possible. 

"How's  your  wife,  Shimba?" 

"Oh,  she  very  nice." 

"Is  she  beginning  to  like  America  ?" 

"All  Japanese  lady  like  him,"  he  declared,  weaving  from 
foot  to  foot  as  if  anxious  to  go. 

"Isn't  she  ever  lonesome?" 

"Oh,  no!  She  have  too  nice  time!"  he  smiled,  and  made 
his  escape  among  the  trees. 

ii 

Since  the  late  spring  day  when  Shimba  had  come  rolling 
back  with  his  picture  bride  Anna  had  watched  the  strange 
match  with  considerable  curiosity.  She  had  peeped  at  the 
little  thing  getting  out  of  the  automobile  in  her  preposterous 
clothes ;  and  remembering  the  terrifying  end  of  the  late 
Mrs.  Shimba,  she  had  felt  a  surge  of  pity  for  the  young 
creature  who  had  come  into  these  new  surroundings  to 
stare  blankly  like  a  frightened  animal. 

A  day  later  she  had  scarcely  recognized  the  girl  as  she 
appeared  in  the  fields,  hoeing  round  an  irrigation  ditch, 
her  body  bent,  her  head  obliterated  under  the  flaps  of  an 
enormous  sunbonnet.  On  several  occasions  she  had  tried  to 


188  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

talk  to  Chizo-san,  but  Matsu  or  Shimba  or  Mrs.  Matsu  had 
always  been  hovering  about, 

Henry  Johnson,  exercising  his  prerogative  as  white  and 
yellow  man  in  one,  had  come  to  Anna  with  gossip  of  the 
fields.  He  had  hinted  that  Mr.  Shimba  was  not  doing  very 
well  with  his  latest  matrimonial  venture.  Young  Mrs. 
Shimba  had  notions  in  her  head.  She  had  discarded  the 
traditional  obedience  of  her  race,  and  talked  among  the 
neighborhood  women. 

One  day  Anna  had  found  the  little  bride  alone  in  a  cor 
ner  of  the  orchard.  She  was  leaning  very  sadly  on  the 
handle  of  her  hoe.  Her  sunbonnet  had  dropped  to  her 
shoulders,  revealing  a  bowed,  pathetic  head. 

"You  speak  English  ?"  Anna  had  asked,  approaching  the 
discouraged  figure. 

The  picture  bride  raised  her  eyes,  and  Anna  could  see 
that  she  had  been  crying.  Until  then  she  had  not  known 
that  a  Japanese  woman  could  weep. 

"Plenty,"  chirped  the  bird.    "I  learn  him  by  high  school/' 

"Are  you  happy  here,  Chizo-san?" 

"I — no — happy,"  she  had  replied,  pausing  on  every  word. 

"Is  your  husband  good  to  you  ?" 

"Yiss.    He  too  good." 

"What's  the  matter,  Chizo-san?" 

"I — no — could — un-stand — everything." 

"Do  you  want  to  go  back  to  Japan  ?" 

"Ah!" 

It  burst  from  her  in  a  tiny  wail,  and  she  began  to  cry 
again. 

Anna  had  taken  Chizo-san's  trouble  to  Mrs.  Awaga,  the 
yellow  pastor's  wife.  But  the  good  woman  had  been  able 
to  give  her  but  poor  satisfaction. 

"They  are  often  so,"  was  all  Mrs.  Awaga  could  say. 
"But  what  can  we  do  ?" 

She  spoke  in  the  same  baffled  tone  she  had  used  when 


DUNG  MAKES  A  BET  189 

she  had  looked  across  at  the  Buddhist  temple,  put  there  to 
steal  away  her  husband's  congregation. 

"Our  government  has  given  gentleman's  word  no  more 
picture  brides  shall  be  sent  over.  I  hope  in  that  sincerity! 
But  do  not  think  too  much  about  the  new  Mrs.  Shimba. 
Our  women  got  married  by  family  arrangement  since  time 
commenced.  With  my  husband  and  me  it  makes  different — • 
perhaps  that  is  why  they  think  us  so  peculiar." 

She  had  cast  a  fond  glance  toward  the  shabby  study 
where  the  Reverend  Professor  Awaga  was  preparing  a  ser 
mon. 

"But  please  not  worry  about  Chizo-san.  Next  time  you 
see  her  maybe  she  will  be  such  a  good  wife." 

The  little  schoolma'am's  prediction  had  proved  true. 
Less  than  a  week  later  Anna  had  found  Chizo-san  alone  a 
second  time.  She  was  hoeing  her  row,  her  loose  sunbonnet 
napping  with  the  regular  strokes  of  the  tool. 

"Good  morning,  Chizo-san." 

The  young  Mrs.  Shimba  had  looked  up,  her  face  a  per 
fect  blank,  her  eyes  unfathomable. 

"Do  you  still  want  to  go  back  home,  Chizo-san?"  Anna 
had  persisted. 

"No— un'stand—  Inglis',"  the  little  bride  had  lisped,  and 
turned  again  to  her  hoeing. 

Thus  ended  poor  Chizo-san's  chapter.  Her  husband  had 
won. 

iii 

This  torrid  summer  day  which  found  Anna  Bly  sitting 
dreamily  beside  a  handful  of  ripening  fruit  had  set  her 
thoughts  turning — turning  in  the  spell  of  soul  change  which 
had  come  upon  her  even  as  her  orchards  had  felt  earth 
change  working  forever  mysteriously  among  them. 

Something  less  than  two  years  had  passed  since  her 
husband's  life  had  been  blasted  away  upon  the  face  of  the 
waters.  In  her  first  anguished  prayer  of  widowhood  she 


190  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

had  promised  that  his  spirit  should  be  with  her  always. 
Yet  in  spite  of  that  grief  and  that  love  she  sat  to-day 
struggling  to  remember  his  face  and  his  personality.  Alas 
for  the  narrowness  of  love !  The  human  heart  is  too  small 
a  thing  to  accommodate  more  than  one  picture  at  a  time. 

Dune  Leacy  had  been  at  the  Brand  farm  a  great  deal  dur 
ing  the  summer,  permeating  it  with  his  cheerful  spirit, 
taking  things  in  his  own  hands  now  and  then,  for  Leacy 
was  fond  of  having  his  own  way. 

To  Kipps  he  was  no  human  being,  but  a  demigod  called 
Dune.  "That's  a  he-man,  mother,"  had  been  the  boy's 
announcement  after  his  first  view  of  Leacy.  A  he-man  he 
was.  His  wholesome  personality  seemed  to  put  tonic  into 
the  air  whenever  he  came  to  the  Ely  farm.  For  Anna  it 
had  been  a  frank  and  happy  companionship,  with  no  trace 
of  sentimentality.  So  far  as  she  could  see,  he  was  just 
about  as  attentive  to  Zudie  as  to  her. 

Had  he  come  in  some  day  to  announce  his  engagement 
to  her  sister  Anna  would  have  felt  no  pang  of  jealousy.  At 
least  so  she  told  herself — and  telling,  she  lied.  She  had 
never  confessed  to  her  heart  the  need  which  any  normal 
young  woman,  alone  and  mateless  in  the  world,  has  always 
with  her. 

She  sat  on  the  top  step  steeped  in  the  reveries  which 
crowded  closer  and  closer  in  her  mind  with  the  solitudes  of 
her  farm.  No.  She  would  be  glad  if  Dune  would  marry 
Zudie.  Poor  Zudie,  she  could  see,  was  putting  a  brave  face 
on  everything,  yet  she  was  pining  for  the  world  she  had  so 
impulsively  forsworn.  Sometimes  she  flamed  up  in  fits  of 
anger  which  recalled  the  wayward  moods  she  had  sup 
posedly  left  in  New  York.  She  would  rail  unreasonably  at 
the  land  and  the  climate  and  the  yellow  people  forever 
infesting  the  soil.  Fear  came  to  Anna  that  Zudie  was 
wearing  out  her  enthusiasm. 

Something  must  be  done  about  Zudie.  Anna  wondered 
why  Dune  Leacy  had  never  thought  of  marrying.  He 


DUNC  MAKES  A  BET  191 

seemed  enormously  popular  with  women.  Too  popular, 
she  had  heard  it  hinted  here  and  there.  Surely,  with  his 
growing  prosperity,  he  could  afford  to  settle  down. 

Flashing  its  self-assertive  nose  among  the  trees,  she  saw 
Dune  Leacy's  car  approaching  at  its  usual  reckless  speed. 
Dune,  the  very  soul  of  summer  in  a  linen  suit  and  Panama 
hat,  was  driving  alone,  and  his  smile  was  broader  than  the 
sun  as  he  came  beaming  up  the  steps  to  greet  her. 

"Some  day  !"  he  chuckled.    "And  how  are  prunes  ?" 

"See  what  Shimba  just  brought  in!"  exclaimed  Anna, 
brightening  as  she  always  did  in  his  presence. 

He  turned  them  over  skillfully,  squeezed  them  and  tossed 
them  bouncing  across  the  porch. 

"Good  full  fruit,"  he  pronounced.  "I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  you'd  make  up  in  prunes  for  what  they  bilked  you  in 
strawberries,  if  the  rain  holds  off." 

He  removed  his  hat  to  mop  his  flaxen  pompadour. 

"Going  to  put  your  fruit  through  that  quaint  Noah's  ark 
effect  out  there?"  pointing  over  his  shoulder  toward  the 
antique  prune  gallows. 

"Why,  yes,  Shimba  seems  to  think  it  will  do." 

"Well,  he's  the  doctor.    It's  his  loss  in  labor,  that's  all." 

He  lit  a  cigarette  and  spoke  the  question  which  seemed 
uppermost  in  his  mind. 

"Say,  Anna" — they  were  Anna  and  Zudie  and  Dune  to 
each  other  now — "has  that  flathead  Helmholtz  been  round 
again  with  a  buying  proposition?" 

"He  was  here  yesterday,"  she  admitted. 

"Offering  more  money?" 

"No,  he  stuck  to  his  original  offer.  But  he  urged  me  to 
sell  right  away.  He  said  that  another  hot  wind  like  this 
would  spoil  the  crop,  and  I'd  do  well  to  get  out  before  I 
lost  everything." 

"Lord !"  swore  Leacy.  "You'd  think  he  was  wishing  the 
red  spider  on  your  trees !  I  wonder  what's  back  of  all  this  ?" 

"Of  course  he's  too  good  a  business  man  to  tell  me  that." 


192  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"Just  look  here!" 

Dune  Leacy  brought  a  shred  of  newspaper  out  of  his 
linen  coat  and  indicated  a  headline. 

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BEGINS  WHOLESALE  GRAB 
INDEFATIGABLE  K.   SATO  PRESIDING  GENIUS  IN  SCHEME 

As  soon  as  Anna  had  read  the  column,  written  in  a  vein 
of  race  hatred  and  sensationalism,  she  handed  the  paper 
back  to  Dune  and  smiled. 

"Well,  they  haven't  grabbed  my  land,  you  see !" 

"I've  been  worrying  about  you,"  he  confessed. 

"About  me?" 

She  scarcely  knew  it,  but  her  heart  fluttered. 

"Of  course  you're  going  to  hang  on  to  this  strip — or  sell 
out  to  a  white  man,"  was  his  next  decision. 

"Why  shouldn't  I  sell  out  to  anybody  I  want  to?"  she 
asked  perversely. 

"A  few  weeks  ago,"  said  Dune  slowly,  "I  couldn't  have 
answered  your  question.  But  right  now,  to-day,  I've  been 
forced  to  a  conclusion.  A  lot  of  that  stuff  I've  been  calling 
cheap  politics  and  newspaper  tommyrot  is  only  too  true. 
The  Japanese  thirst  for  land  isn't  just  individual  and  natu 
ral.  It's  inspired,  concerted  and  directed." 

"Inspired,  concerted  and  directed  by  what?"  she  persis 
tently  smiled. 

"The  Japanese  Government." 

"There  are  Califoniians  who  don't  think  so,"  she  said. 

"There  are  members  of  the  Bohemian  Club  who  never 
heard  of  Dan  O'Connell,"  he  answered  in  parable. 

"But,  Dune,  you  can't  blame  the  Japanese  Government 
for  K.  Sato !" 

"All  right !"  he  said.  "I'll  bet  you  something  that  you'll 
agree  with  me  before  it's  done  with." 


DUNG  MAKES  A  BET 

"What  will  you  bet?"  she  teased,  determined  not  to  take 
him  in  earnest. 

"Well,  let's  see."  Good  humor  was  restored  to  his  florid 
face  as  he  calculated.  "Let's  see.  We'll  make  the  stakes  high. 
Suppose  I  bet  you  a  carload  of  asparagus  against " 

He  paused  and  reddened  a  shade. 

"Against  what?" 

"Against  a  kiss,"  said  Dune  quite  shamelessly. 


IV 


Anna  Ely  felt  her  color  rising.  With  all  her  experience 
in  the  wide  world  she  had  never  been  a  flirt.  The  intimate 
suggestion  of  Leacy's  bet  shocked  her  sense  of  propriety, 
and  being  a  normal  young  woman  she  liked  him  at  that 
moment  more  than  she  had  ever  liked  him  before. 

"We'll  make  it  Grade  A  Eastern  grass,  spring  cutting," 
he  was  going  on. 

When  Anna  looked  round  she  was  surprised  to  see  the 
earnestness  in  his  clear  eyes. 

"I  never  thought  you  were  a  gambler,"  said  she,  striving 
to  hold  her  own  in  the  jest. 

"I'm  a  sound  investor/'  declared  Leacy.  "But  if  you 
think  the  odds  are  unfair  I'll  make  it  two  carloads." 

She  studied  him  archly.  It  was  often  hard  to  tell  when 
Dune  was  fooling.  He  smiled  at  this  instant,  but  that 
same  devouring  look  was  in  his  eyes. 

"One  carload  would  be  sufficient,  I  think,"  she  decided. 

"Then  the  bet's  on,"  he  insisted,  clearing  his  throat. 

What  a  preposterous  idea !  Anna  felt  that  she  should  be 
angry.  Yet  there  she  sat  smiling  upon  the  man  who 
crouched  beside  her,  his  hands  clasped  across  his  tight- 
kneed  knickerbockers.  For  just  a  flash  their  eyes  spoke 
together,  then  Leacy  looked  away. 

"Anna,  I've  had  you  on  my  mind  a  lot  lately,"  he  said, 
and  her  heart  leaped  again. 


194  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"Really?"  she  managed  to  say,  and  was  bitterly  dis 
appointed  in  his  next  remark. 

"You're  so  typical  of  a  certain  phase  in  the  California 
land  question." 

"Oh!" 

"You  represent  a  white  spot  in  a  long  yellow  strip.  The 
yellow  is  struggling  on  every  side  to  rush  over  you  and 
blot  you  out." 

"Aren't  you  exaggerating  a  little?"  asked  Anna. 

"I  wish  I  were.  We're  yellow  down  on  the  island  too, 
but  the  situation  there's  a  little  different.  We've  got  the 
yellow  peril  working  for  us,  and  any  time  we  find  enough 
white  labor  to  do  the  trick  we  can  clear  the  Japs  and  Hindus 
and  Mexicans  off  the  lot  and  make  it  a  white  man's  coun 
try  again.  But  here  the  situation  is  different." 

"How— different?" 

She  eyed  him  critically,  a  little  coolly,  as  she  always  did 
when  his  California  prejudice  began  asserting  itself. 

"You  can  fight  big  business  with  big  business,"  he  began. 
Then  with  one  of  his  sudden  turns,  "Why  do  you  suppose 
Helmholtz  is  coming  round  here  every  week  with  some 
new  proposition  ?" 

"He's  not  a  Japanese,"  she  pointed  out. 

"He's  a  Jap  under  his  skin — just  one  of  those  poor  speci 
mens  willing  and  anxious  to  sell  out  his  country  on  a 
commission  basis.  Anna,  I  don't  want  you  to  help  him  in 
such  a  deal!" 

"We're  sailing  very  close  to  the  wind,"  she  confessed. 

"I'm  sorry  to  hear  that,  Anna,"  he  replied,  his  look  grave. 

"I  was  ambitious  to  make  the  farm  nice.  It  looked  so 
desolate  and  run  down  when  we  came.  It  didn't  seem  fair 
to  Zudie " 

"Always  Zudie!"  Dune's  low  tone  broke  in. 

"I  had  the  house  repaired  and  painted.  We  got  nearly 
all  the  furniture  new.  Then  Shimba  insisted  on  new  pump 
ing  machinery  for  the  irrigation  system,  and  I  had  the  barns 
rebuilt  We  had  to  have  a  car  and  a  garage  for  it.  Then 


DUNC  MAKES  A  BET  195 

the  fruit  bins  were  in  frightful  shape — all  these  improve 
ments  cost  a  great  deal  of  money." 

"At  the  present  Klondike  prices — I  should  say  yes !" 

"So  you  see,"  she  added  wistfully,  "the  prune  crop's  just 
got  to  pay." 

"You  ought  to  tell  that  to  the  prunes,"  he  laughed,  but 
was  serious  in  an  instant.  "I'm  glad  you've  built  to  stay, 
Anna.  You've  shown  a  lot  of  nerve  to  come  here  and  fight 
it  out — green  as  you  were.  Lordy,  I  wish  I  were  your  boss." 

"What  would  you  do?"  she  asked,  her  voice  softening. 

"I'd  just  see  that  you  stuck  it  out." 

"I'm  going  to  stick  it  out !"  she  declared. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Dune,  studying  her  curiously.  "It's 
a  pretty  thing,  the  song  of  Asia.  You  don't  know  the  Japs 
as  I  know  them.  In  fact  I've  been  operating  here  for  a 
good  many  years,  and  it  hasn't  been  until  this  summer  that 
I  began  to  open  my  eyes." 

"What's  turned  you?"  she  asked. 

"The  Natural  Energy  Fruit  and  Land  Company,"  he  re 
plied,  and  lifted  a  corner  of  the  newspaper  scrap  out  of 
his  pocket. 

She  was  about  to  question  him  more  closely,  but  the 
deepening  of  his  eyes  held  her  to  another  thought. 

"Anna,"  he  began  awkwardly,  "I've  got  my  life  in  a  sort 
of  queer  mix-up." 

At  that  instant  Anna's  sedan  came  puffing  into  view, 
Zudie  looking  cool  and  pretty  in  a  rear  seat,  while  Henry 
Johnson,  every  inch  a  philosopher,  tugged  thoughtfully  at 
the  wheel. 

"Hello,  Henry!"  cried  Dune  Leacy  as  he  came  down  to 
help  Zudie  with  her  bundles. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Leacy !"  Henry  had  got  out  and  stood  bowing 
ceremoniously,  his  seedy  hat  almost  sweeping  the  road 
dust.  "Your  appearance  always  adds  freshness  to  the 
weather." 

"Fresh  describes  it !"  laughed  Zudie,  giving  him  a  slender 


196  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

hand.  "And  speaking  of  freshness,  have  you  noticed  the 
wind  ?" 

Dune  Leacy  wet  his  forefinger  and  held  it  appraisingly 
on  high. 

"Whoops!"  he  cried.  "It's  coming  from  the  south! 
Hot  wave's  busted !  Now  if  it  doesn't  turn  to  rain- " 

"There's  always  an  If  for  the  poor  farmer!" 

"It's  at  least  a  thousand  degrees  cooler,"  declared  Zudie. 
"Have  you  been  chloroformed  or  something  that  you 
haven't  noticed  it?" 

Anna  cast  a  conscious  look  toward  the  man  who  had 
come  closer  to  her  in  these  few  minutes  than  ever  before 
in  their  happy  acquaintanceship.  No,  she  hadn't  noticed 
the  weather. 

"Any  mail?"  she  asked  as  soon  as  her  sister  had  stepped 
under  the  shadow  of  the  porch. 

"A  communication  from  the  Mikado,  I  think,"  smiled 
Zudie,  bringing  forth  a  large,  square  envelope,  embossed 
with  a  flowery  seal. 

"It's  Baron  Tazumi!"  cried  Anna  delightedly  when  she 
had  examined  the  formal  card.  "He's  in  San  Francisco, 
and  we're  invited  to  a  party." 

"Oh,  goody!"  exclaimed  her  sister,  and  plucked  the  in 
vitation  from  Anna's  hand,  then  read  disjointedly :  "Dinner 
and  reception — St.  Francis  Hotel — honor  of  distinguished 
travelers  returning  from  Japan — why,  it's  next  Thursday !" 

"How  very  nice  of  the  baron!"  beamed  Anna. 

"Oh,  he'll  not  forget  us!"  Zudie  assured  her.  "And 
we're  going,  aren't  we?" 

"We  must,"  Anna  decided. 

"I'm  just  dying  for  a  party.     Isn't  he  an  old  dear?" 


When  Zudie  had  gone  into  the  house  Dune  Leacy  stood 
stiffly  against  a  pillar  of  the  porch  and  hesitated  as  one 
groping  for  words  whereby  to  speak  his  mind. 


DUNC  MAKES  A  BET  197 

"It's  none  of  my  business,"  he  began  gruffly,  "but  I'd 
like  to  know " 

Anna's  heart  seemed  to  harden  at  his  tone.  The  psycho 
logical  atmosphere  had  changed  as  suddenly  as  the  weather. 

"What  would  you  like  to  know?"  she  asked. 

"Are  you  really  going  to  that  Jap's  party  ?" 

"Baron  Tazumi  is  an  old  friend  of  the  family,"  she  in 
formed  him,  "and  we  are  most  certainly  going." 

"I  told  you  it  was  none  of  my  business,"  he  said  with  a 
twisted  smile. 

"What  objection  can  you  possibly  have?"  she  asked. 
"Some  of  the  most  distinguished  people  in  America  will  be 
there." 

"Some  of  the  most  distinguished  people  are  often  wrong," 
he  smiled  again.  "That's  what  makes  politics,  I  suppose." 

"As  the  representative  of  a  great  government,  hasn't  he 
the  right  to  entertain  whom  he  pleases  ?"  she  insisted,  striv 
ing  to  keep  anger  out  of  her  voice. 

"Is  he  entertaining  as  a  representative?" 

"Isn't  he?" 

"After  the  pretty  lecture  I've  just  been  giving  you!" 
Dune  Leacy  shook  his  head.  "And  here  we  are  again — 
just  where  we  started." 

"I  don't  understand  your  terms,"  she  told  him. 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  he  very  gently.  "Well,  it's  time  I 
was  going  back  to  the  grass  country." 

He  was  gone  ten  minutes  when  Zudie  came  back  to  the 
porch  and  found  her  sister  standing,  her  unseeing  eyes  gaz 
ing  into  the  orchards. 

"Anna,  you  haven't  quarreled,  have  you  ?"  asked  the  little 
sister. 

Anna  Ely  struggled  with  herself  before  she  could  reply. 

"How  could  any  one  be  so  bigoted  ?" 

"He's  perfectly  wild  about  you,  Anna,"  replied  the  girl, 
who  was  sometimes  as  wise  as  she  was  frivolous. 


CHAPTER  XVII:   A  TALK  WITH  THE  ADMIRAL 


THEY  loitered  for  several  days  in  San  Francisco,  be 
cause,  as  Zudie  expressed  it,  "Prunes  won't  be  ripe 
for  two  weeks,  and  nobody  can  steal  our  trees  while  we're 
away." 

It  was  a  week  of  social  gayety  in  the  city  of  beautiful 
breakneck  streets  and  energizing  fogs.  The  Pacific  fleet 
had  just  steamed  into  port  from  the  south,  and  visiting 
jackies  brought  in  a  new  note  of  color  to  the  town  which 
prohibition  itself  cannot  make  quite  sad.  From  the  hilly 
cobbles  of  Sutro  Baths  to  the  flat-lying  cobbles  of  the  water 
front  rolled  handsome  specimens  of  the  genus  gob,  and 
for  every  gob  at  least  one  pretty  girl. 

On  such  a  week  the  male  civilian  must  needs  stand  aside 
or  fight  it  out  cave-man  fashion  at  the  end  of  ten  bare 
knuckles.  One  alternative  proved  as  vain  as  the  other. 
Naval  policemen,  clubs  at  their  belts  and  frowns  upon  their 
brows,  stood  before  every  corner  drug  store.  Warrant 
officers,  machinists'  helpers,  able  seamen,  bo's'n's  mates 
spilled  out  of  taxicabs  and  rubberneck  wagons;  or  they 
clung  to  the  jaunting-car  seats  of  the  Union  Street  cable 
car  in  its  miraculous  climb  over  the  Alpine  streets  of  Rus 
sian  Hill. 

That  nobody  ever  fell  to  his  death  was  but  another 
tribute  to  the  clinging  powers  of  the  trained  sailorman. 
There  was  always  a  slender  waist  by  which  to  anchor. 
"Pinafore"  was  in  the  breezy  air,  and  for  Little  Buttercup  it 
was  the  day  of  days. 

It  was  Wednesday  when  the  Brand  sisters  came  to  San 

198 


A  TALK  WITH  THE  ADMIRAL  199 


Francisco,  and  they  found  the  Palace  Hotel  lobby  gay  with 
officers,  several  of  whom  they  recognized  as  friends  of 
New  York  and  Washington  days.  The  chubby  junior  lieu 
tenant  who  came  rushing  over  to  greet  them  proved  to  be 
Bobby  Burns  of  pleasant  memory. 

"Of  course  you're  coming  to  the  reception  on  board 
ship,"  he  exclaimed. 

"We're  not  invited,  thank  you,"  laughed  Zudie. 

"We've  been  living  so  out  of  the  world  we  forgot  there 
was  such  a  thing  as  a  Navy,"  was  the  way  Anna  explained 
it. 

"Well,  when  the  Old  Man  learns  you're  in  town  he'll 
send  a  destroyer  right  up  Market  Street  to  haul  you  in," 
Bobby  threatened. 

"We  shan't  run  away!"  Zudie  promised  him,  and  Anna 
asked,  "How  is  the  Admiral?" 

"Fit  as  a  fiddle  and  wishing  he  was  dead.  The  Old  Man 
isn't  much  of  a  tea-going  sailor,  you  know.  He'd  rather 
fight  twenty  grand  fleets  than  one  dinner  party — and  he's 
booked  up  to  the  limit.  Official  dinner  to-night,  board-of- 
trade  luncheon  to-morrow  and  that  big  Jap  blowout  in  the 
evening." 

"You  mean  Baron  Tazumi's  dinner?" 

"Yes.  He  seems  to  be  spending  money  like  a  lucky 
tout." 

"We're  going!"  announced  Zudie. 

"Bully !  I'm  glad  there'll  be  somebody  to  talk  to.  And 
say,  the  Old  Man's  going  to  be  sore  as  a  crab  when  he 
finds  you're  in  town  and  haven't  come  aboard !  Just  let  me 
tip  him  off,  will  you?" 

How  well  Lieutenant  Burns  tipped  him  off  was  demon 
strated  within  the  hour,  when  an  aid  presented  Admiral 
Bledsoe's  compliments  over  the  telephone  and  begged  that 
Mrs.  Bly  and  Miss  Brand  attend  the  reception  on  the  flag 
ship  as  the  Admiral's  guests. 

"I  knew  we  were  going  to  have  a  regular  orgy!"  cried 


200  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

Zudie,  and  Anna  was  happy  to  see  the  merriment  returning 
to  her  little  sister's  eyes. 

That  afternoon  when  they  stooped  under  the  launch's 
tasseled  canopy  to  put  foot  on  the  floating  platform  beside 
the  great  steel  hull  a  band  on  the  deck  above  was  playing  an 
intoxicating  waltz.  Even  as  she  mounted  the  ladder  up  the 
side  Zudie's  little  feet  were  keeping  time,  hungry  for  the 
element  in  which  they  had  flourished.  Anna's  heart  was 
fluttering  with  the  enchantment.  Not  until  now  had  she 
realized  how  much  she  had  missed  the  gayeties  of  her  for 
mer  life. 

And  how  glad  she  was  for  Zudie!  Always  Zudie,  as 
Dune  Leacy  had  said  upon  their  last  interview. 

Several  gold-braided  officers  came  forward  to  greet  them, 
and  Anna  recognized  many  of  Alec's  mates  at  Annapolis, 
men  who  had  shared  their  rooms  with  him  and  sailed  with 
him  on  the  great  adventure  from  which  he  never  returned. 

"Hello,  Anna !"  sang  out  a  half  dozen  cheerful  voices  in 
which  she  recognized  the  intonations  of  old  friends. 

"How  in  the  world  did  you  ever  get  into  this  harbor?" 
besought  Lieutenant  Gregg,  a  bearlike  officer  who  had 
served  with  Alec. 

"We  don't  live  here,"  chimed  in  Zudie.  "We're  over 
near  Sacramento  running  a  farm." 

"A  farm !"  Many  pleasant  voices  took  up  the  humorous 
refrain. 

"Well,  you've  grown  one  peach  on  it,  I'll  say!"  sang 
out  Bobby  Burns,  who  for  long  had  claimed  a  place  among 
Zudie's  admirers.  "Have  you  followed  the  plow  so  lon£ 
you've  forgotten  how  to  dance?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  retorted.    "Let's  find  out." 

ii 

The  bearlike  Gregg  claimed  Anna  before  a  number  of 
rivals.  To  the  accorded  sound  of  silver  cornets,  played 


A  TALK  WITH  THE  ADMIRAL  201 

with  a  swagger  peculiar  to  naval  bands,  they  whirled  across 
the  canvas-covered  deck  under  the  wide  canopy  which 
shaded  batteries  of  giant  guns.  The  flags  of  all  the  Allies, 
stretched  end-to-end  round  the  rail,  gave  a  checkered  bril 
liancy  to  the  improvised  pavilion. 

When  the  dance  was  over  Anna  and  her  partner  stood 
beside  a  gallant  little  banner  whereon  a  rising  sun  shot 
scarlet  rays  across  a  snow-white  field. 

"The  Japanese  flag !"  said  Anna.  "It's  the  most  aesthetic 
of  them  all." 

"But  not  the  most  beautiful,"  replied  Gregg,  and  his 
eyes  were  then  upon  the  level  stripes  of  Old  Glory. 

"I  don't  see  why  you  naval  men  should  always  be  putting 
the  two  flags  in  rivalry !"  she  exclaimed. 

"Rivalry?"  asked  Gregg,  and  laughed  a  big  thick  laugh. 
"There's  no  naval  rivalry  between  America  and  Japan." 

"No?    Then  what's  all  this  war  talk?" 

"The  European  row  is  over.  The  newspapers  have  got 
to  rant  about  something.  The  Japanese  aren't  madmen,  you 
know,  whatever  you  want  to  say  against  them." 

"You  mean  they're  afraid  of  our  Navy?" 

"They're  sane,  that's  all.  Do  you  see  those  little  bean 
shooters  up  there?" 

His  glance  indicated  the  long,  sheer  barrels  of  heavy 
guns  pointing  from  their  turrets. 

"Anna,  we've  got  four  ships  right  here  in  this  harbor 
that  could  outrange  and  outfight  the  entire  Japanese  navy." 

"So  we'll  be  going  round  the  world  like  armed  bullies 
from  shore  to  shore !"  exclaimed  Anna. 

"Joking?"  smiled  Gregg. 

"I  suppose  so.  It's  hard  to  say.  At  any  rate  I'm 
awfully  happy  to  see  the  uniform  again." 

"And  don't  suppose  that  we're  going  round  like  bullies 
from  shore  to  shore?"  he  persistently  grinned. 

"My  remark  was  in  horrid  taste,"  she  confessed. 

"Because  you're  one  of  our  crowd,  Anna,"  said  the  good- 


202  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

natured  friend.  "And  I'd  hate  to  think  that  life  on  the 
farm  had  turned  you  into  a  Bryanite." 

Anna  heard  no  more  of  this,  though  Lieutenant  Gregg 
was  rated  a  good  talker  among  sailormen.  But  all  during 
the  conversation  her  eyes  had  been  seeking  out  Zudie,  and 
when  at  last  she  discovered  her  little  sister  the  sight  was 
sufficiently  astonishing  to  drive  every  other  idea  out  of  her 
head. 

In  and  out  among  the  dancers  wove  the  supple  figure, 
the  very  picture  of  grace  in  rhythm.  Her  eyes  were 
brighter  than  Anna  had  ever  seen  them  before,  her  cheeks 
were  flaming  like  peonies.  Anna  could  see  all  this  in  the 
instant  when  Zudie  was  turned  toward  her.  The  next 
instant  Anna  caught  sight  of  the  girl's  partner. 

Lieutenant  Commander  Sidney  Footridge! 

"I'm  so  glad!"  thought  Anna,  and  could  have  cried  for 
joy,  but  to  Lieutenant  Gregg  she  said,  "Why,  there's  Sid 
Footridge!" 

"He  joined  us  with  the  destroyers  at  San  Diego/'  ex 
plained  Gregg.  "It's  not  for  long,  between  you  and  me." 

"Has  he  been  ordered  away?" 

"To  the  Philippines,"  explained  her  informant.  "And 
gosh,  how  he  does  dread  it !" 

Anna  danced  away  with  little  Bobby  Burns,  who  man 
aged  a  fox  trot  well  in  spite  of  his  inferior  stature. 

"This  is  the  life!"  he  chuckled  in  her  ear. 

"Indeed  it  is,  Bobby!"  she  agreed;  but  he  little  knew 
how  much  of  her  heart  went  out  in  the  words. 

In  spite  of  the  athletic  requirements  of  the  dance,  her 
eyes  were  always  seeking  after  Zudie,  and  her  thoughts 
went  with  her  gaze.  Footridge  continued  to  claim  her, 
dance  after  dance.  Anna  uttered  a  prayer  of  thanksgiving, 
even  to  the  accompaniment  of  profane  music.  While  Anna 
was  dancing  an  encore  she  saw  the  reunited  couple  leaning 
against  the  rail. 

"What  is  there  worth  quarreling  about?"  thought  Anna. 


A  TALK  WITH  THE  ADMIRAL  203 

"Is  anything  sufficiently  important  to  part  young  lovers  at 
the  time  when  they  should  be  mated?" 

Then  her  mind  wandered  to  thoughts  of  her  own  poor 
case.  The  day  was  in  sight  when  she  would  be  thirty 
years  old. 

"For  one  of  my  advanced  years,"  laughed  Anna  as  she 
completed  her  third  dance  with  Bobby,  "these  modern 
dances  are  a  bit  trying." 

"You  toddling  infant!"  whinnied  Burns,  applying  a 
handkerchief  to  his  brow. 

"What's  happened  to  the  Admiral?"  she  asked.  "I 
haven't  had  a  peep  at  him — his  own  reception  too.  He 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself." 

"He's  down  below,"  chuckled  Bobby,  "fighting  off  a  dele 
gation  of  lady  highbrows  who  want  him  to  hold  the  fleet 
another  week  so  that  they  can  give  him  a  few  more  ban 
quets.  He's  on  a  diet,  you  know,  and  the  thought  of  a 
ten-course  dinner  makes  him  perfectly  savage." 

"Poor  old  Uncle  Len!"  sighed  Anna,  harking  back  to 
her  childhood  name  for  the  great  man. 

At  that  instant  she  saw  Zudie  and  Sid  Footridge  coming 
toward  them.  His  face  seemed  to  give  forth  rays  of  light ; 
and  the  peonies  were  still  blooming  on  Zudie's  cheeks. 

"Well,  Sid,"  said  Anna  as  her  hand  was  crushed  in  his 
big  palm,  "we  meet  again,  after  all !" 

"With  a  brass  band,"  roared  Sid,  "and  all  flags  flying! 
Zudie's  been  trying  to  make  me  believe  that  you  actually 
grow  prunes  on  your  farm." 

"We  do  grow  several,"  admitted  Anna,  always  willing  to 
joke  about  the  comic  fruit. 

"How  many?" 

"My  Japanese  brought  me  nearly  a  plateful  of  ripe  ones 
last  Saturday." 

"They  call  it  Little  Japan  out  there,"  explained  Bobby  in 
a  voice  which  hinted  that  the  Brand  sisters  were  on  exhi 
bition. 


204  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"How  do  you  like  the  Japs  by  this  time?"  asked  Sid 
Footridge. 

Anna  hoped  that  they  wouldn't  quarrel  again  when  Zudie 
cut  in:  "They're  simply  lovely.  I  don't  know  how  we'd 
get  anything  done  without  the  Japanese.  Isn't  that  so, 
Anna?" 

"They're  very  capable,"  Anna  agreed  faintly,  and  was 
saved  from  further  parley  by  a  booming  series  of  explo 
sions  coming  in  a  rapid  succession,  "Well,  well,  well !"  from 
the  stairway  below. 


in 

Two  muscular  arms,  blue  clad  and  gold  braided,  went 
round  the  slim  shoulders  of  the  Brand  sisters,  pulling  them 
together  into  a  family  group,  as  the  deep-lined,  aquiline, 
merry-eyed  face  of  Admiral  Bledsoe  beamed  down  on  them. 

"Well,  well,  well !  What  are  you  two  children  doing  so 
far  away  from  home?  By  George,  Zudie,  you're  a  regular 
grown-up  lady,  aren't  you  ?  And,  my  word,  Anna's  in  long 
dresses  too.  Either  I'm  getting  old  or  girls  are  going  out 
into  society  younger  than  they  used  to." 

Uncle  Len  always  spoke  of  Anna  as  a  debutante,  and 
seemed  quite  unable  to  realize  that  she  had  matured  into  a 
woman. 

Like  the  merry  monarch  that  he  was,  he  insisted  that  the 
sisters  should  come  below  "and  help  talk  some  of  this  tea 
gabble  out  of  my  head,"  as  he  put  it.  The  group  of  officers 
gathered  round  grinned  appreciatively  at  the  Old  Man's 
joke,  but  Sid  Footridge  looked  a  trifle  crestfallen,  Anna 
thought,  as  they  deserted  him  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

On  the  way  down  a  plutocratic  Californian  stopped  the 
Admiral  to  introduce  his  plutocratic  wife.  A  great  land 
owner  of  the  rainbow-painting  type  was  this  Californian. 
He  urged  the  Admiral  to  hitch  his  ship  indefinitely  on  the 
shore  of  God's  country.  He  desired  the  Admiral  to  ride 


A  TALK  WITH  THE  ADMIRAL  205 

in  the  fastest  and  biggest  motor  car  that  money  could  buy, 
to  enjoy  the  hospitality  of  the  finest  country  place  in  Mill 
Valley,  to  behold  the  finest  stock  farm,  the  finest  forest 
land,  the  noblest  view  in  America,  all  of  these  desirable 
things  being  the  sole  possession  of  the  great  California 
landholder. 

The  Admiral  was  sorry,  but  he  had  a  pressing  engage 
ment  to  conduct  the  Pacific  fleet  into  deep  waters  within  a 
very  few  weeks. 

As  soon  as  he  had  guided  his  favorite  children  to  the 
semicircular  steel-riveted  room  below  he  permitted  his 
seamy  face  to  crinkle  into  a  smile. 

"Patrolling  the  North  Sea  isn't  the  hardest  job  I've  ever 
tackled,"  said  he,  showing  his  guests  to  stationary  chairs 
and  punching  a  button  to  order  tea  and  cigarettes. 

Anna's  eyes  roved  curiously  round  the  walls,  regarding 
autographed  photographs  of  all  the  earth's  royalties  still  in 
respectable  standing.  King  George  and  Queen  Mary,  their 
Majesties  of  Belgium  and  of  Italy,  Ferdinand  of  Rumania 
had  expressed  in  several  languages  their  regard  for  the 
popular  Admiral.  President  Poincare's  grizzled  beard  and 
gentle  features  offered  a  tribute  from  democracy  to  democ 
racy.  The  Emperor  and  Empress  of  Japan  beamed  be 
nignly  from  prominent  places  on  the  wall. 

The  sight  of  all  these  sovereign  lords  of  universal  under 
standing,  gathered  as  though  in  peaceful  conference  in  one 
of  America's  greatest  war  vessels,  had  a  soothing  effect  on 
Anna's  nerves.  War  at  least,  thought  she,  had  exerted  this 
beneficent  influence,  had  made  it  possible  for  the  mightiest 
peoples  of  the  earth  to  meet  upon  a  basis  of  good  will. 

But  the  Admiral  talked  of  home  things  with  all  the 
affectionate  curiosity  of  a  father  who  had  been  long  sep 
arated  from  his  own.  Were  they  doing  well  on  their  farm  ? 
Did  they  like  the  life?  Did  they  get  along  smoothly  with 
the  Japanese?  The  Old  Man  fancied  that  there  had  been 
a  lot  of  loose  talking  on  the  Japanese  subject  lately.  No 


206  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

loose  talking  for  him,  you  bet!  Too  many  admirals  had 
been  going  in  for  oratory  since  the  war. 

The  Old  Man  winked  and  crackled  his  seamy  face  again 
at  this  last  sly  hint.  And  when  Anna  intimated  that  she 
had  heard  a  naval  officer  say  that  four  ships  now  in  San 
Francisco  harbor  could  outfight  and  outrange  the  Japanese 
navy  he  tightened  his  lips  and  spluttered :  "Pshaw !  Japan's 
not  on  our  target  range.  Get  that  out  of  your  heads !" 

As  soon  as  tea  was  over  he  bounced  to  his  feet. 

"Come  on,  children,"  he  said.  "I  want  to  show  you 
some  bits  of  hardware  I've  picked  up  during  my  travels. 
Sailors  are  always  collecting  trinkets,  you  know.  First  of 
all,  I  want  to  show  you  my  Jug." 

He  winked  again.  Leading  them  into  the  officers'  mess 
he  stopped  before  a  sideboard  and  pointed  out  his  Jug. 
It  was  a  beautiful  silver  urn,  standing  three  feet  from  lip 
to  pedestal.  It  bore  Great  Britain's  coat-of-arms  and  up 
and  down  its  silvery  bowl  many  world-famous  names  were 
engraved  below  the  inscription:  "From  the  officers  of  the 
Grand  Fleet  to  Leonard  Bledsoe." 

"I  guess  I'll  have  to  keep  that  in  the  family,"  declared 
Uncle  Len,  patting  his  Jug  affectionately.  "And  come 
along.  Take  a  look  at  my  collection  of  badges." 

He  opened  a  chest  of  drawers  in  the  semicircular  room 
and  brought  out  a  number  of  small  boxes,  some  of  lacquer, 
some  of  velvet. 

"That's  a  pretty  one,  isn't  it?"  he  smiled  deprecatingly, 
opening  the  first  box  to  reveal  an  elaborate  decoration  of 
gold  and  enamel  suspended  from  a  ribbon. 

"The  Order  of  the  Bath !"  exclaimed  Zudie. 

"Oh,  yes,  so  it  is,"  agreed  the  Admiral.  "And  this  one's 
the  Order  of  King  Leopold.  And  this  is  the  Order  of 
Savoy,  isn't  it?" 

He  gazed  at  the  royal  favor  through  his  glasses  to  make 
sure. 

But    Anna's    attention    had    been    diverted    from    the 


A  TALK  WITH  THE  ADMIRAL  207 

Admiral's  discourse.  One  among  the  boxes  had  attracted 
her  from  the  first;  its  beautiful  lacquer  surface,  adorned 
with  a  golden  chrysanthemum,  had  urged  her  to  raise  the 
lid  and  look  at  the  treasure  inside.  Finally  she  obeyed  the 
impulse. 

A  perfect  example  of  the  goldsmith's  art  lay  before  her 
on  its  bed  of  flowery  brocade.  Sun  rays  of  white  enamel, 
alternated  with  streamers  of  gold,  shot  forth  from  a  center 
which  might  have  been  a  flat-cut  ruby  or  a  marvelous  circle 
of  brilliant  red  enamel. 

"This  is  the  flower  of  your  collection !"  she  cried,  holding 
the  mighty  trifle  up  to  the  light. 

"You  think  so  ?"  asked  the  Old  Man. 

"It's  so  simple  and  so — so  imperial !" 

"Order  of  the  Rising  Sun,"  explained  he.  "Nice  thing. 
The  Mikado  sent  that  round  to  me  one  day." 

And  he  closed  the  box  as  if  to  guard  himself  against  any 
undue  display  of  pride. 


CHAPTER  XVIII:  THE  VERY  NOBLE  GENTLE 
MAN 


TT  was  while  Baron  Tazumi  was  receiving  his  guests 
•*•  in  the  reception  room  outside  the  banquet  hall  that 
Anna  had  her  first  glimpse  of  him  during  her  visit  to  San 
Francisco.  With  the  ribbon  of  a  foreign  order  across  his 
shirt  front  and  the  correct  smile  on  his  lips,  he  looked — 
as  he  always  did — the  man  of  the  world,  always  charming, 
never  at  a  loss  for  words. 

But  he  seemed  a  little  older,  she  thought,  than  when  she 
had  last  seen  him  in  New  York.  His  face  was  still  un- 
wrinkled  and  his  carefully  twisted  mustache  was  black  as 
jet,  but  his  handsome  pompadour  was  salted  with  gray. 
As  he  stood  in  line,  amiably  passing  his  guests  on  to  the 
American  financiers,  clergymen  and  publicists  who  had  so 
recently  enjoyed  the  hospitality  of  Japan,  his  hand  at  last 
went  out  to  Anna  and  Zudie. 

"Ah,  Mrs.  Ely !"  he  cried,  his  almond  eyes  snapping  with 
genuine  pleasure.  "I  was  worried  for  fear  my  invitation 
had  miscarried.  Allow  me  to  present  Senator  Jascomb, 
Mr.  Ignatius  Kohl  and  the  Reverend  Doctor  Greet.  How 
stupid  of  me !  You  have  met  before." 

Anna  was  handed  on  to  the  important  travelers  who  had 
been  guests  of  the  Cherry  Blossom  Society  in  New  York 
and  whom  she  had  encountered  a  little  later  at  the  Consul- 
General's  dinner  in  San  Francisco. 

She  was  of  too  worldly  a  breed  to  feel  disappointed  at 
her  old  friend's  formal  greeting.  The  task  of  shaking 
hands  with  a  distinguished  multitude,  giving  each  the 
courtesy  of  his  official  rank,  was  sufficient  to  keep  the  baron 

208 


THE  VERY  NOBLE  GENTLEMAN         209 

busy;  therefore  she  contented  herself  with  Mrs.  Jascomb 
and  Mrs.  Kohl,  who  burst  almost  at  once  into  eulogies  of 
cherry-blossom  time  in  Yeddo  and  the  splendors  of  the 
royal  court.  And  they  had  almost  been  permitted  an  audi 
ence  with  the  Mikado ! 

The  arrival  of  officers  from  the  Pacific  fleet  brightened 
the  scene  for  Anna  and  her  sister.  Rear  Admiral  Bledsoe, 
his  dress  uniform  blazing  with  the  loveliest  of  his  "badges" 
— the  Order  of  the  Rising  Sun — accepted  the  hero's  meed 
of  flattery  and  got  out  of  the  crush  as  soon  as  possible. 

He  settled  himself  in  a  corner  with  Anna  as  long  as  his 
popularity  would  permit,  and  before  they  could  drag  him 
away  again  he  swore:  "By  hickory,  if  they'd  hand  me  a 
pretty  one  like  you  once  in  a  while  at  these  dinners  you'd 
never  find  me  aboard  ship !" 

Out  of  a  corner  of  her  eye  Anna  could  see  Sid  Footridge 
talking  earnestly  with  her  sister.  Hope  renewed  itself. 
Her  husband's  face  appeared  distinctly  for  an  instant  in  her 
brain.  Ensign  Ely  had  been  so  handsome  in  his  new  uni 
form  the  night  they  met — and  she  had  wanted  him  to  love 
her! 

Lieutenant  Commander  Footridge  sought  her  out  just  as 
the  guests  were  forming  to  file  into  the  banquet  hall. 

"Anna,  I  ought  to  have  flat  feet,"  he  declared.  "I  land 
on  'em  so  often.  I  just  blow  in  from  the  bay,  expecting  to 
bore  myself  stiff  with  some  important  Jap  lady,  and  here  I 
find  a  card  ordering  me  to  take  you  in  to  dinner." 

"You  perfect  dear!"  cried  Anna,  truly  delighted.  "But 
you  oughtn't  to  be  complaining  about  the  Japanese,  Sid. 
There  are  only  a  handful  here." 

"I'll  bet  you  haven't  seen  so  few  at  a  time  since  you 
came  to  California,"  he  remarked. 

"Don't  let's  start  that  again,  Sid,"  she  begged. 

He  must  have  caught  her  significant  look  and  known 
that  she  was  thinking  of  Zudie. 

"All  right.     We'll  sit  round  and  gossip  while  the  Inter- 


210  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

national  True  Lovers'  Festival  blows  off  steam/'  was  the 
consoling  way  he  put  it  as  they  found  their  places  at  an  j 
obscure  end  of  the  U-shaped  table.  The  uniformed, 
decollete  and  white-fronted  personages  took  seats  on  either 
side  of  the  noble  Japanese.  There  was  a  scattering  of 
Tazumi's  countrymen — officials,  bankers  and  business  men 
— among  the  latter  the  wealthy  Mr.  Otisuki,  who  had  en 
tertained  Anna  at  Piedmont.  At  a  far  end  of  the  table  she 
could  see  the  smiling  face  of  the  elegant  Mr.  Oki,  who 
was  making  himself  agreeable  to  Zudie,  seated  at  his  left. 

It  was  not  until  game  had  been  served  that  Sid  broached 
his  obsessing  topic,  which  was  Zudie. 

"Anna,  it's  the  hardest  job  I  ever  tackled,"  he  confessed. 
"After  the  things  she  said  to  me  in  New  York  I  went 
away  thinking  that  I'd  just  quit  and  stay  out  of  it  from 
then  on.  I've  been  batting  round  from  port  to  port  ever 
since,  trying  to  fix  up  my  life.  I  almost  got  myself  engaged 
to  a  nice  girl  at  Coronado.  And  now  I've  come  right  back 
to  where  I  started.  I  can't  beat  the  game,  Anna." 

"You  ought  to  come  over  to  the  farm,  Sid,"  she  sug 
gested,  hoping  that  she  might  help  him  in  some  way. 

"It's  next  to  impossible  to  get  away  now.  I've  been  or 
dered  to  the  Philippines — I  might  be  sent  to  sea  any  day — 
and  this  is  about  my  last  chance." 

"Why  don't  you  ask  her  now?" 

Anna  was  relying  upon  the  force  of  simplicity. 

"I've  done  that — again  this  afternoon,"  he  admitted. 
"Do  you  know  the  condition  she  tried  to  tie  me  up  to  ?" 

Anna  knew,  but  she  didn't  say  so. 

"She  wants  me  to  quit  the  Navy." 

ii 

His  further  lament  was  interrupted  by  a  toast  to  the 
President  of  the  United  States,  for  dinner  had  by  now 
reached  a  point  where  something  that  popped  like  cham- 


THE  VERY  NOBLE  GENTLEMAN 

pagne  and  tasted  like  soda  water  had  been  poured  from  tin- 
foiled  bottles  into  tall  glasses.  When  this  was  over  and 
the  health  of  the  Emperor  of  Japan  had  been  proposed  by 
Senator  Jascomb,  and  the  guests  had  got  up  and  sat  down 
several  times,  and  Baron  Tazumi  had  toasted  the  distin 
guished  tourists  and  the  distinguished  tourists  had  toasted 
Baron  Tazumi,  the  speech  making  began  in  earnest. 

Smiling  modestly  across  the  table,  the  baron  explained 
that  since  this  was  no  formal  dinner,  but — in  a  manner  of 
speaking — a  family  gathering,  he  found  himself  in  the  posi 
tion  of  toastmaster  and  host  in  one.  If  there  were  any 
present  narrow  enough  to  doubt  the  good  relations  between 
America  and  Japan,  let  him  listen  to  the  words  of  these 
representative  Americans  who  had  just  returned  from  the 
islands  of  Nippon,  where  they  had  studied  both  the  faults 
and  the  virtues  of  these  people  whom  a  yellow  press  is  dis 
posed  to  call  a  yellow  peril.  Tazumi's  manner  was  modest 
in  the  extreme,  and  he  closed  his  remarks  with  the  depre 
cating  hope  that  the  speakers  wouldn't  be  too  hard  on  his 
little  people. 

Anna  noted  in  the  speeches  that  followed  something  of 
the  tone  she  had  heard  at  the  Cherry  Bloskmi  Society  din- 

V.  *y  •        J  -'  '    \ 

'  ner.v  Bfl{  ths.  song  had  become  strangely  more  melodious. 
Senator  Jascomb^  early  among  the  singers,  declared  that  the 
average  Japanese 'enjoyed  a  personal  freedom  comparable 
to  that  of  the  average  American. 

"Despotism  though  it  may  be,"  he  vociferated,  "you  will 
find  few  instances  of  social  injustice  or  the  cruelty  of  class 
against  class.  Half  starved  for  land — yes.  Inured  to  lives 
of  grinding  economy — yes.  But  exploited  by  capitalism — 
never!" 

"Personally  conducted!"  whispered  Footridge.  "I'll  bet 
they  never  let  him  get  within  smelling  distance  of  one  of 
their  factories." 

After  the  illustrious  Mr.  Kohl  had  expounded  upon  the 
superior  trade  relations  of  the  little  people  among  the  in- 


SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

ferior  nations  of  Asia,  the  Reverend  Doctor  Greet  was 
called  upon. 

His  beautiful,  sensitive  face,  crowned  with  flowing  silver, 
shed  a  benediction  across  the  room  as  he  spoke  at  length 
upon  the  subject  of  Japanese  morality. 

"Where  in  all  the  world,'*  asked  his  pleasantly  emotional 
voice,  "can  one  find  a  more  beautiful  domestic  relation  than 
exists  among  the  little  workers  of  Nippon?  Each  occupy 
ing  his  or  her  place  in  the  perfectly  organized  home,  the 
father  to  labor  and  to  counsel,  the  mother  to  labor  and  to 
teach,  the  child  to  revere  the  parents,  to  emulate  their  hon 
esty  and  kindness. 

"In  our  Western  ignorance  we  have  been  brought  up  to 
think  that  the  Japanese  are  a  polygamous  people.  How 
can  we  persist  in  so  revolting  a  libel  ?  The  Japanese  stand 
ard  of  morality  compares  more  than  favorably  with  the 
American  standard — and  I  know  whereof  I  speak,  because 
I  have  devoted  years  to  investigating  social  conditions  in 
New  York  and  Chicago." 

"And  about  a  week  to  the  same  job  in  Tokyo — personally 
conducted,"  whispered  the  narrow-minded  Footridge. 

"We  have  been  brought  up  to  believe,"  went  on  the  pleas 
ant-voiced  clergyman,  "that  the  prosperous  Japanese  noble 
man  is  like  the  Turk  of  similar  station,  proprietor  of  a 
harem  in  keeping  with  his  social  importance.  I  see  Baron 
Tazumi  smiling  at  the  absurdity  of  this  slander." 

The  baron  indeed  was  smiling,  and  sympathetically  the 
room  burst  into  a  titter. 

"And  I  come  here  to-night,  my  fellow  countrymen,  to 
drive  a  nail  in  that  popular  lie.  From  the  Emperor's  pal 
ace  down  to  the  lowliest  peasant's  hut  monogamy  is  the  un 
broken  rule  in  Japan  to-day.  When  the  present  Empress 
of  Japan  was  a  young  girl  she  became  a  student  at  the 
school  of  Miss  Tsuda,  a  very  Christian  lady,  who  so  trained 
the  beautiful  princess  in  ideas  of  Occidental  morals  that 
the  lesson  was  never  forgotten.  The  princess  later  became 


THE  VERY  NOBLE  GENTLEMAN 

engaged  to  the  heir  apparent  only  under  condition  that  con 
cubinage  should  be  forever  discouraged  in  the  palace.  This 
noble  example  had  an  almost  magical  effect  upon  the  entire 
Japanese  Empire.  Whatever  the  custom  might  have  been 
in  a  generation  now  relegated  to  the  Dark  Ages,  in  pro 
gressive  modern  Japan  there  is  no  double  standard  of 
morality  as  there  too  often  is  in  America.  The  marriage 
tie  among  the  beautiful  islands  of  Nippon  is  a  sacred  and 
lasting  thing." 

When  the  applause  had  died  away  the  Reverend  Doctor 
Greet  eulogized  the  beauty  of  filial  devotion  among  the  sun- 
born  people,  and  as  an  example  told  of  a  young  girl  who 
had  sold  herself  into  a  Yoshiwara  in  order  to  free  her  par 
ents  from  debt. 

Anna  liked  this  story  much  less  than  others  the  good 
preacher  had  to  tell.  Footridge  sat  back  in  his  chair,  his 
head  tilted  toward  the  ceiling.  He  was  blowing  smoke 
rings. 

The  speech  making,  though  ardent  in  the  extreme,  was 
of  briefer  duration  than  it  had  been  at  the  Cherry  Blossom 
Society. 

"You  see,"  said  Sid  Footridge,  when  the  diners  were  ris 
ing  from  the  table  and  the  floor  was  being  cleared  for  danc 
ing,  "this  is  just  another  case  of  before  and  after  taking. 
These  Yankee  tourists,  before  going  to  Japan,  were  just 
mildly  pro-Jap.  They've  been  under  treatment  now  for  a 
few  months — and  behold !" 

"If  you  keep  on  that  way,  Sid,"  whispered  Anna,  "you'll 
never  get  Zudie  as  long  as  you  live." 

The  naval  officer  had  just  opened  his  mouth  to  reply 
when  a  slender  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder. 

"What  have  you  to  gain  by  antagonizing  us,  Commander 
Footridge?"  asked  a  sweet  voice. 


SEED  OF  THE  SUN 


Anna  swung  nervously  round  and  beheld  Baron  Tazumi, 
a  good-natured  smile  on  his  handsome  face,  his  black  eyes 
snapping  quizzically. 

"I'm  sorry  to  have  butted  in,  as  the  American  language 
says  it,"  he  continued  affably.  "But  it  was  innocent  eaves 
dropping,  I  assure  you.  And  I  can't  help  repeating  the 
question:  What  have  you  to  gain  by  antagonizing  us?" 

"Well,  baron,"  replied  Footridge,  seeming  to  come  easily 
out  of  his  first  surprise,  "are  you  sure  that  we  are  doing 
the  antagonizing?" 

"I  have  an  open  mind,"  laughed  the  baron,  "and  I  am 
eager  to  be  convinced  that  Japan  has  ever  been  antago 
nistic." 

"You  haven't  done  it  by  banging  a  wooden  shoe  on  a 
dishpan,  the  way  we  have,"  admitted  Footridge.  "We're 
a  rough  lot  when  it  comes  to  diplomacy.  No,  Japan  hasn't 
antagonized  us  tfc_at  way." 

"Just  how  would  you  say?"  smiled  the  great  gentleman. 

"By  kind  words  and  soft  answers,"  replied  Footridge. 

"I  should  like  to  discuss  that  with  you  in  a  friendly 
spirit,"  invited  Tazumi,  and  Anna  could  not  choose  but  ad 
mire  his  continued  good  nature.  Or  was  it  the  kindness  of 
a  wise  teacher,  conscious  of  his  superior  intelligence,  yet 
too  expert  to  show  superiority? 

"We'll  go  fifty-fifty  on  the  hall,"  grinned  Footridge,  his 
eyes  wandering  toward  a  corner  where  Zudie  stood  sur 
rounded. 

"Ah  !"  —  the  baron's  eyes  danced  —  "but  it  should  be  in  a 
neutral  country." 

"There's  always  Coblenz,"  suggested  the  lieutenant  com 
mander.  "And  now  if  you'll  pardon  me  -  " 

He  made  his  bow  and  was  'off  to  fight  for  his  share  of 
Zudie's  attention. 

"A  fine  fellow  !"  exclaimed  Tazumi.    "A  splendid  type  of 


THE  VERY  NOBLE  GENTLEMAN         215 

service  man.  His  father,  as  I  knew  him,  was  like  that — 
stubborn  and  brusque  and  a  little — shall  I  say  it? — pro 
vincial." 

Like  all  his  countrymen,  Tazumi  was  shy  about  dancing. 
Possibly  it  was  a  consciousness  of  his  inferior  stature ;  pos 
sibly  it  was  a  hereditary  prejudice  against  public  familiarity 
between  male  and  female.  At  any  rate  he  expressed,  with 
out  saying  so,  his  preference  to  sit  the  dance  out.  They 
found  themselves  a  little  gilt  alcove  outside  the  big  room. 
Here  they  settled  among  rose  upholsteries,  pleasantly  dis 
tant  from  the  fine  wail  of  violin  strings.  She  knew  instinc 
tively  what  Tazumi  was  about  to  say,  and  as  he  talked  on, 
obviously  playing  for  time,  she  made  a  rapid  review  of  her 
life  and  his  place  in  it. 

He  was,  she  still  persisted,  the  finest  gentleman  she  had 
ever  met.  In  stature,  to  be  sure,  he  was  short.  Then  came 
to  her  an  echo  from  the  speech  she  had  heard  in  a  Buddhist 
temple:  "Nobody  shall  say  that  our  souls  are  smaller  than 
theirs."  Surely  Tazumi's  soul  was  a  great  one.  Trained  in 
the  narrow  creed  of  an  old  nobility,  he  had  schooled  his  fine 
mind  to  open  to  all  the  world,  to  comprehend  the  message 
of  a  universal  brotherhood.  What  could  be  higher  than 
that? 

His  skin,  to  be  sure,  was  a  shade  sallower  than  hers,  his 
eyes  a  little  different.  Many  women  of  her  acquaintance 
had  married  hideously  ugly  men  and  loved  them  to  distrac 
tion.  What  then  was  the  invisible  wall  between  her  and  the 
aristocratic  Tazumi? 

In  thaF searching  flash  she  thought  of  Dune  Leacy — or 
was  it  the  mind  behind  the  mind  that  brought  his  picture 
to  her  ?  There  had  been  an  hour  when  she  had  considered 
him.  That  hour  had  passed. 

"Anna" — she  heard  Tazumi's  high-pitched  voice  coming 
out  of  the  general  to  the  particular — "I  have  often  won 
dered.  How  tall  are  you?" 


216  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"I  ?"  She  laughed  a  trifle  nervously.  "I'm  a  bean  pole- 
five  feet  ten." 

"Ah!"  His  tone  was  rich  with  admiration.  "And  we 
are  such  little  people!" 

"Not  in  spirit,"  she  told  him. 

"You  think  not?" 

His  quick  black  eyes  seemed  to  devour  her,  and  in  an 
other  instant  he  was  saying  the  expected  thing. 

"Anna,  I  have  thought  a  great  deal  about  you  since  we 
said  farewell.  It  has  worried  me  to  think  that  you  might 
have  fallen  among  those  who  strive  to  make  trouble  be 
tween  your  people  and  mine.  Is  it  so,  Anna?" 

"I — I  don't  think  so,"  she  replied. 

"You  must  have  known  how  much  I  have  cared  for  you/' 
he  went  on,  "though  I  have  never  spoken  of  love." 

The  last  word  came  strangely  from  his  lips. 

"Why  should  you  have  thought  of  me?"  she  asked  in 
effectually,  groping  for  something  to  say. 

"There  are  few  American  women  like  you.  You  are  so 
gentle.  You  are  so  inspired  with  what  we  call  the  domestic 
virtues.  I  have  seen  how  much  you  could  sacrifice  for 
your  children.  Such  beauties  of  character  are  not  lost 
upon  a  Nipponese." 

"Those  are  admirable  qualities  to  admire,"  she  said,  and 
hoped  it  hadn't  sounded  like  a  sarcasm. 

The  orchestra  was  playing  tenderly,  great  waves  of 
sound.  Out  there  on  the  dancing  floor,  she  remembered, 
Zudie  was  swimming  in  the  golden  element  she  loved. 

"Much  as  I  have  admired  your  fight  against  fate,"  Ta- 
zumi  was  saying,  "I  have  hated  to  think  of  you  struggling 
against  the  rough  elements — alone.  I  am  no  worshiper  of 
money,  Anna,  but  I  have  a  great  deal  of  it.  You  would* 
enjoy  among  my  people  the  place  you  deserve.  You  would 
be  a  figure  in  court  society.  You  could  live  again  among 
the  great  of  the  earth." 

The  great  of  the  earth!     Who  are  they?    Big- framed 


THE  VERY  NOBLE  GENTLEMAN         217 

men,  blond  and  boisterous,  fighting  for  the  fruits  of  the 
soil  with  the  spirit  of  boys?  Fine-boned  yellow  men,  keen- 
eyed,  studious  and  thoughtful,  planning  their  destiny  with 
the  skill  of  engineers?  Soul  strength  against  soul  strength 
— who  are  the  great  of  the  earth  ? 

Anna  glanced  at  the  silk-skinned  little  man  beside  her. 
Candid,  earnest,  honorable,  she  knew  that  he  admired  her 
because  he,  too,  was  admirable.  He  had  gone  into  a  strange 
land  and  fought  for  his  people  with  an  ethical  code  as  pure 
as  Galahad's.  And  yet  she  gazed  in  wonder,  trying  to 
imagine  them  in  the  relation  of  husband  and  wife. 

"I  shall  be  called  home  soon,"  he  urged,  "and  I  should 
like  your  answer,  Anna." 

He  touched  her  hand  for  an  instant,  but  she  withdrew 
it.  His  fingers  were  soft  as  silk,  but  cold  to  the  touch. 

"Please  don't  ask  me  to  decide  now,"  she  pleaded,  rising 
and  looking  across  the  crowded  ballroom. 

"Many  months  ago,  Anna,  I  wished  to  ask  this  question," 
he  said,  standing  beside  her. 

"Everything's  so  jumbled!" 

Anna  had  herself  risen  with  a  panic-stricken  desire  to 
run  away. 

"May  I  call  at  your  hotel  to-morrow  at  noon  ?"  he  asked, 
coming  back  to  his  punctilious  manner. 

"Oh,  yes,  do  come.     I'll  try  to " 

She  rushed  away  from  him  to  encounter  Bobby  Burns, 
cooling  off  gradually,  among  the  side  seats  near  the 
orchestra. 

"Dance  with  me,  Bobby!"  she  begged.  "I  don't  care 
who  else  claims  you." 

"You've  always  got  first  call,"  he  pufnngly  assured  her. 
"I'll  whirl  you  until  I  melt.  Great  Brussels  sprouts,  but 
you  look  like  a  handsome,  reckless  devil,  Anna!" 

"I  am,"  she  agreed,  "and  I  hope  the  tune  never  stops!" 

Whereupon  he  clasped  her  tightly  as  naval  etiquette  will 
permit.  He  didn't  melt,  as  he  had  agreed  to  do  for  her 


218  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

sake,  but  that  happy  termination  was  only  prevented  by  a 
decision  of  the  orchestra  leader,  who  at  last  laid  down  his 
bow  and  put  away  his  fiddle  for  the  night. 

She  shook  hands  with  the  Baron,  among  a  hundred  oth 
ers,  at  the  door,  and  thanked  him  for  his  entertainment. 


IV 

In  the  cloakroom  her  name  came  to  her  from  a  curious 
source.    A  hotel  maid,  who  had  just  helped  Zudie  on  with 
her  wrap,  turned  to  Anna  with  the  question:  "Pardon  me, 
madam.     Which  of  you  ladies  is  Mrs.  Ely?" 
"I'm  Mrs.  Ely,"  said  Anna,  slightly  surprised. 
"I  have  a  note  for  you,"  explained  the  woman  as  she 
reached  to  a  shelf  above  the  coat  hooks  and  brought  down 
a  pinkish  square  envelope. 

The  address  was  astonishing  enough.  It  was  written  in 
a  large  schoolboy  hand  with  every  "a"  and  "o"  painfully 
rounded  out: 

"Mrs.  Ely, 
"Care  Tazumi  Ball, 
"Francis  Hotel." 

"Who  brought  this  ?"  asked  Anna  before  she  had  opened 
the  note. 

"A  Jap  boy,"  said  the  maid. 

"What  Jap  boy?" 

"I  can't  say,  madam.  They  look  so  much  alike,  you 
know." 

Anna  concealed  the  envelope  under  her  cloak,  loath  to 
open  it  before  so  many  prying  eyes.  It  was  not  until  they 
had  reached  the  outer  air  and  were  waiting  under  the  mar 
quee  for  their  taxicab  that  she  harkened  to  Zudie's  sug 
gestion:  "It  might  be  something  important.  You'd  better 
read  it  right  away." 

Therefore  Anna  broke  the  flap  and  read : 


THE  VERY  NOBLE  GENTLEMAN         219 

"Mrs.  Bly,  you  could  be  there  at  ten  on  time  because 
danguras  to-morrow  A.  M.  see  me  about  Tazumi  and  be 
glad  to  do  so.  I  am  a  lady." 

Anna  had  read  the  queer  message  over  a  second  time  be 
fore  she  found,  faintly  penciled  at  the  bottom  of  the  page, 
a  name  and  number — probably  an  address,  though  she  had 
never  heard  of  such  a  street  in  San  Francisco. 

When  Zudie  read  the  letter  she  laughed. 

"It  sounds  like  one  of  Shimba's  proclamations,"  was  her 
light  decision. 

But  her  look  became  more  serious  when  she  added :  "You 
mustn't  think  of  going,  Ann.  Heaven  only  knows  what 
sort  of  a  trap  you'd  be  walking  into !" 


CHAPTER  XIX:    ANNA  DECIDES 


NEXT  morning  Anna  rose  early,  stiff  from  lack  of 
sleep.  During  her  few  hours  in  bed  she  had  tossed 
her  problems  to  and  fro,  struggling  with  her  spirit  on  the 
brink  of  decision.  When  the  morning  light,  drifting  fog 
gily  under  the  window  shade,  troubled  her  tired  eyes  with 
another  day  she  had  reached  but  one  conclusion. 

Things  couldn't  go  on  as  they  were.  At  best  she  was  but 
an  amateur  farmer.  The  crop  might  prosper,  but  her  brief 
experience  had  warned  her  of  the  whims  of  labor  and  of 
the  gambler's  chance  which  a  farmer  takes  with  growing 
things.  She  was  losing  patience  with  her  sister's  perver 
sity.  Sid  Footridge  had  arrived  like  a  god  out  of  the 
machine  and  Zudie  was  sending  him  away  again.  Her  own 
future  looked  desolate.  The  farm  she  had  chosen  for  her 
children  was  serving  them  indifferent  well.  She  could  see 
no  satisfactory  way  of  sending  Kipps  to  school  again,  to  be 
despised  by  whites  and  Japanese  alike. 

Of  course  if  she  married  Tazumi  the  children  would  be 
thrown  with  the  other  race  still.  But  in  Japan  they  would 
associate  with  children  of  their  own  kind  and  class.  Or  she 
might  arrange  it  with  the  Baron  that  Nan  and  Kipps  should 
be  educated  in  America.  No,  she  couldn't  live  away  from 
her  children — that  mustn't  be! 

Over  in  her  narrow  bed,  Zudie,  her  bright  hair  rilling 
across  the  pillow,  lay  huddled  under  a  coverlid.  She  always 
loved  to  sleep  late  in  the  morning.  That  had  been  one  of 
the  indulgences  denied  her  on  the  farm.  A  qualm  of  pity 
overcame  Anna  as  she  peered  at  the  pretty,  luxury-loving 

220 


ANNA  DECIDES 

face  against  the  pillow.  Zudie  was  no  farm  woman.  Her 
life  among  the  trees  had  been  one  continual  fight  against 
Nature — her  own. 

Anna  rose  and  tiptoed  to  the  dresser,  and  the  first  thing 
she  saw  there  was  the  folded  square  of  pinkish  paper  which 
had  come  to  her  so  unaccountably  last  night  at  the  dance. 
She  went  over  the  quaintly  worded  sentence  until  she  came 
to  Tazumi's  name.  It  had  a  sinister  look,  scrawled  there 
on  the  silly  pink  stationery — "10  on  time  because  danguras" 
had  a  menacing  sound.  She  glanced  closely  at  the  script 
and  decided  that  the  hand  was  feminine. 

She  had  thrown  the  note  aside  the  night  before,  deeming 
it  the  idle  work  of  some  insane  slanderer.  But  in  the  de 
pression  of  cold  morning  it  took  on  a  larger  importance. 
The  name  of  Tazumi  fairly  shrieked  at  her  from  the  page. 
What  did  she  know  about  him,  after  all?  She  still  held 
stoutly  to  her  belief  in  his  unselfishness,  but  if  he  had  an 
enemy  she  should  know  it. 

Anna  dressed  herself  in  the  bathroom  that  she  might 
not  disturb  her  sleeping  sister.  At  last  she  tiptoed  in  and 
was  putting  on  her  hat  before  the  mirror  when  Zudie  woke 
sufficiently  to  drawl,  "What  are  you  doing,  Ann  ?" 

"Go  back  to  sleep,"  she  said.  "I'll  not  be  gone  long." 

Zudie  lay  back  and  resumed  her  nap.  But  Anna  had 
just  laid  her  hand  on  the  door  knob  when  her  sister  sat  up 
in  bed,  rubbing  her  eyes. 

"Ann,  you're  not  going  to  do  anything  about  that  foolish 
note!" 

"Rubbish!"  said  Anna,  and  closed  the  door  against 
Zudie's  supplications. 

ii 

The  taxicab  driver  did  not  hesitate  over  the  address  she 
had  found  scribbled  on  the  pink  stationery. 

"That's  in  the  Richmond  district,  lady,"  he  informed  her, 
and  sent  his  car  chugging  up  the  heights. 


SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

Westward  the  flying  wheels  took  their  course,  now  over 
asphalt,  now  over  cobbles.  Anna  recognized  the  city  hall, 
but  after  that  she  was  completely  lost.  The  miles  of  pretty 
commonplace  houses  and  apartment  buildings  of  the  Rich 
mond  district — a  city  built  on  empty  sand  dunes  almost 
over  night  after  the  fire  and  earthquake — meant  nothing  to 
Anna  Ely. 

The  scene  was  pleasing  to  her  eye,  accustomed  to  the 
heavy  sterility  of  Eastern  streets.  Flower  boxes  bloomed 
under  every  window;  roses  climbed  over  walls  as  pretty 
and  as  flimsy  as  though  they  had  been  built  to  adorn  a 
stage  set.  Between  the  street  and  the  sidewalk  there  were 
neat  grass  plots  and  flowering  shrubs.  Along  these  miles 
of  inexpensive,  domestic-minded  streets  there  appeared 
every  variety  of  architecture  from  the  Spanish  mission  to 
Nuremberg  rathaus.  But  one  eccentricity  prevailed: 
Every  house  had  its  garage,  built  facing  the  street,  right 
under  the  parlor  windows.  It  gave  the  district  a  quaint 
appearance  suggesting  a  town  of  fire  stations.  At  any 
instant  you  might  expect  any  one  of  those  broad  doors 
along  the  sidewalk  to  fly  open,  gongs  to  sound  and  gallant 
fire  laddies  to  dash  forth  upon  the  hook  and  ladder. 

It  was  five  minutes  after  ten  when  Anna,  her  taxi  having 
swung  into  a  side  street  near  the  Presidio,  found  the  right 
number  among  a  serried  row  of  domesticated  fire  stations. 
It  was  a  very  small  house,  pretty  in  architecture,  with  well- 
tended  flower  boxes  under  the  nicely  curtained  windows. 
At  sight  of  the  place  Anna  lost  the  misgivings  that  had 
haunted  her  along  the  way.  Nothing  sinister  could  dwell 
behind  those  dainty  gables  and  those  prettily  ruffled 
curtains.  <v 

Scarcely  had  she  raised  the  small  brass  knocker  when  the 
door  opened.  It  seemed  to  creep  open  as  though  a  hanO 
were  already  upon  the  inner  knob  and  had  turned  it  even 
before  she  carne  up  the  steps.  She  had  a  glimpse  of  a 
pretty  foyer  paneled  in  dark  wood  and  of  a  handsome  gray 


ANNA  DECIDES  2£S 

jar  filled  with  flowers.  Against  such  a  background  stood 
the  woman  who  had  opened  the  door.  Dazzled  by  the  bril 
liant  outdoor  light,  Anna's  eyes  must  needs  grow  accus 
tomed  to  the  dim  interior  before  she  recognized  the  tiny 
animate  figurine  with  the  rosebud  mouth  and  languid 
Asiatic  eyes.  Even  then  there  was  a  momentary  puzzle 
ment  wherein  the  caller  asked  herself,  "Where  have  I  seen 
her  before  ?"  Then  she  remembered — the  tiny  Korean  god 
dess  whom  she  had  seen  so  carefully  guarded  in  a  Market 
Street  department  store ! 

"You  come  in?"  squeaked  the  lovely  miniature,  and  the 
knowledge  that  she  was  not  carved  out  of  ivory  or  fash 
ioned  of  porcelain,  that  she  was  alive  and  could  talk  like 
other  people,  brought  a  certain  shock. 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Anna. 

As  soon  as  she  was  inside,  the  Korean  woman  closed  the 
door  as  softly  as  she  had  opened  it. 

The  Ming  figurine  glided  ahead  of  Anna,  a  fastidious 
goddess  in  a  tailor-made  skirt  and  nicely  fitted  shirt  waist. 
Lithe  she  was,  and  agile  as  a  cat;  or  was  she  like  some 
spare-bodied  Java  dancer,  trained  to  gyrate  before  a  temple 
god  with  many  heads  and  a  belly  of  brass  ? 

"You  sit  down?"  she  invited,  gesturing  toward  a  stiff- 
backed  chair. 

She  did  not  grin  and  bob  as  Japanese  women  do,  but 
there  was  a  fragile  smile  upon  her  dot  of  a  mouth. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Anna  again,  and  watched  the  Korean 
woman  perch  herself  primly  in  another  stiff-backed  chair. 

The  setting  was  right.  Her  feet,  which  could  never  have 
touched  the  floor  from  where  she  sat,  reposed  upon  a  foot 
stool  of  red  lacquer.  Behind  her  stood  a  six-paneled 
Coromandel  screen  carved  with  fabulous  birds  and  flowers, 
delicately  tinted.  A  Chinese  rug  of  an  apricot  dye,  seldom 
seen  even  in  private  collections,  stretched  across  a  room, 
which,  though  not  large,  had  the  look  of  space,  due  to  its 
balanced  simplicity.  There  were  a  few  kakemonos  on  the 


SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

flat  gray  walls,  and  on  the  mantel  two  Chinese  jars,  grace 
ful  and  creamy  white. 

"I  am  Mrs.  Ely.  Did  you  send  me  a  note  last  night?" 
asked  Anna  after  a  prolonged  silence. 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  the  Korean  woman,  smiling  faintly. 
"You  got  him— all  right?" 

"A  maid  at  the  hotel  gave  it  to  me." 

Anna's  curiosity  was  growing  with  every  sentence. 

"I  gave  one  Japanese  laundry  boy  five  dollars  to  do  that," 
explained  the  Korean.  She  chirped  her  words  in  a  precise 
staccato,  much  as  though  she  were  reciting  a  lesson.  "I 
did  not  think  he  would  do  it.  I  so  glad." 

"Just  what  was  it  you  wanted  to  see  me  about, 
Miss " 

"Mees  Kim.    I  am  Korean,  you  un'stand." 

"Yes,  I  know." 

"Oh!"  Two  stiffly  graceful  hands  came  together  in  tiny 
excitement.  "Then  you  hear  about  me?" 

"I  saw  you  in  a  department  store  once.  The  sales 
woman  said  you  were  a  Korean." 

"Yiss." 

The  slanting  eyes  closed  for  an  instant,  but  the  dot  of 
a  mouth  held  its  faint  smile. 

"Then  you  saw,"  continued  Mees  Kim,  "that  Suko-san 
standing  over  me  like  big  club  ?  I  fool  her  this  morning  to 
see  you/' 

She  uttered  her  first  laugh,  such  a  trill  as  might  have 
issued  from  a  small  reed  instrument  played  beside  an 
ancient  river  in  the  heart  of  Asia. 

"From  ten  to  eleven,"  she  continued,  counting  on  her 
fingers,  "this  Suko-san  go  fish-marketing.  From  eleven  to 
one  hairdresser  come.  She  very  nice  people,  that  hair 
dresser.  She  teach  me  Inglis  quite  good.  She  bring-me 
Japanese  paper,  so  that  is  why  I  send  to  you." 

"Japanese  paper!"  echoed  Anna,  nebulous  fears  rising 
in  her  mind.  "What  have  Japanese  papers  to  do  with  me  ?" 


ANNA  DECIDES 

"They  mention  your  happiness  very  often  now." 

"My  happiness?" 

"How  you  shall  get  married  with  Baron  Tazumi." 

Anna  sat  staring  at  the  little  figure  in  the  stiff  teakwood 
chair.  What  labyrinth  of  the  Orient  was  she  entering 
now?  What  trick  was  this?  Why  had  she  been  brought 
here  to  talk  of  a  groundless  rumor  in  a  Japanese  paper  ? 

"I  wish  go  to  you  when  I  hear  that  news/'  Mees  Kim 
was  prattling  on.  "But  how  could  I  get  away  from  Suko- 
san?  Then  American  newspaper  tell  how  you  shall  be  at 
Tazumi  dance.  I  send  for  you  to-day  while  Suko-san  is 
away  fish-marketing." 

"Is  there  any  reason  why  you  shouldn't  go  where  you 
please?"  Anna  had  so  sufficiently  recovered  to  ask. 

"Why  should  I  go  somewhere?  Baron  Tazumi  would 
not  like  that." 

Baron  Tazumi!  Anna's  mind  went  blank  again  in  the 
new  light  of  understanding. 

"Are  you  married  to  Tazumi  ?"  she  asked  softly. 

The  little  Korean's  face  was  now  as  astonished  as  her 
own. 

"How  could  I  do  that?  I  am  poor  family  of  Korean 
official.  Tazumi  very  high  nobleman." 

iii 

She  still  sat  straight  and  proud,  but  her  voice  was  very 
humble  as  she  said:  "How  could  he  make  himself  low  to 
me?  In  his  household  there  should  be  many  ladies.  I  am 
honored.  Some  Korean  hate  Japanese.  But  I  do  not  hate 
Tazumi.  He  most  kind  of  all  men  to  me.  When  Japanese 
soldier  men  enter  Seul  and  make  my  father  dead,  then 
Tazumi  come  there  so  that  I  should  not  be  hurt.  He  send 
me  to  America  to  say  I  was  wife  of  another  Japanese. 
Then  he  make  me  in  his  household." 

His  household !  How  much  was  revealed  to  her  in  that 
expressive  word!  Anna  looked  round  the  magnificently 


226  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

simple  room.  How  he  must  have  loved  her  to  have  sur 
rounded  her  with  such  perfection.  And  here  sat  the  cap 
tive  creature,  daughter  of  the  ancient  East,  more  content 
than  any  exotic  bird  could  ever  be  in  its  cage  of  jade  and 
ivory. 

"Baron  Tazumi  is  considerable  rich,"  the  pretty  captive 
babbled  on.  "So  he  can  have  many  households.  But  I 
always  so  happy  when  he  come  to  this  So  Ko.  I  wait  for 
him  here  all  time.  I  have  no  name  like  Japanese  woman, 
so  he  make  me  one  name  for  himself." 

"A  Japanese  name  ?"  asked  the  caller,  who  already  knew 
all  she  cared  to  know. 

"Yiss.    He  call  me  Ai." 

Anna  was  thinking,  "What  a  tiny  name  for  a  tiny  lady !" 
but  the  gentle  staccato  was  explaining. 

"That  name  mean  two  thing.  One  thing  when  happy, 
another  thing  when  sad." 

"What  does  it  mean  when  you  are  happy?"  asked  Anna. 

"Then  it  mean  Love." 

"And  when  you  are  sad  ?" 

"Grief!" 

The  word  tinkled  like  a  little  bell  tolling  over  a  funeral 
among  the  fairies. 

"Do  you  love  him  very  much?" 

Anna  had  risen  to  go. 

"Ah !"  For  the  first  time  the  supple  body  bent  forward. 
"I  am  not  his  wife.  Therefore  I  can  say  how  much  and 
not  feel  shamed  for  it." 

"I  must  be  going  now,"  said  Anna.  "It's  nearly  eleven, 
and  Suko-san  will  soon  be  back." 

She  could  feel  nothing  more  than  a  maternal  pity  for  this 
lost  child  of  another  code. 

"Yiss,"  agreed  Mees  Kim.  "But  first  I  tell  you  what  I 
ask." 

The  Korean  woman  had  got  down  from  her  chair,  and 
again  her  body  bent  a  little. 


ANNA  DECIDES 

"When  you  marry  to  Tazumi  you  will  not  kill  me  also !" 

"Kill  you?" 

In  spite  of  the  tension — or  perhaps  because  of  it — Anna 
could  have  laughed  at  this  last  request. 

"Why  should  I  kill  you  ?"  she  inquired. 

"Suko-san  say  you  will,"  declared  Mees  Kim.  "She  tell 
me  how  all  American  lady  when  they  marry  gentleman 
make  him  kill  all  his  households.  Will  this  be  so?" 

Mees  Kim's  slant  eyes  were  twinkling  so  pathetically  up 
at  the  superior  being  that  Anna  could  have  taken  her  in  her 
arms. 

"I'm  not  going  to  marry  Baron  Tazumi,  my  dear,"  said 
Anna. 

"No?" 

The  long  eyes  were  now  completely  puzzled. 

"Why  you  no  should  marry  to  him  ?  He  most  kind  man 
of  all  world.  I  could  tell  you  that.  He  most  noble  man 
you  find." 

"Good-by,  Miss  Kim !" 

Upon  an  unreasoning  impulse  Anna  stooped  down  and 
kissed  one  of  the  tea-rose  cheeks  of  the  captive  sprite. 
Frightened  at  the  barbaric  demonstration,  the  little  Korean 
backed  away  a  step,  then  opened  the  door  soundlessly. 

"Goo'-by!"  she  said. 

iv 

When  Anna  returned  to  her  hotel  room  she  found  Zudie 
dressed  for  the  street. 

"Anna,"  she  cried,  "how  queer  you  look !  Has  anything 
awful  happened?" 

"No,  it  hasn't  happened,  dear,"  said  Anna  softly.  "I've 
been  saved  from  it  by  a  miracle.  And  now  let's  pack  and 
get  out  as  soon  as  we  can." 

"But  the  Baron's  calling  at  noon." 

"I  know,"  replied  Anna.  "And  that's  why  we  must 
hurry." 


CHAPTER  XX:  HENRY'S  TRANSLATIONS 


THE  week  preceding  harvest  time  brought  dreamy  days 
to  Anna  Ely  and  Zudie  Brand.  Orchards  were  purple 
with  the  small,  sweet  plums  poised  on  their  branches,  await 
ing  the  day  when  they  should  fall  to  earth,  borne  down  by 
their  own  ripeness.  Every  day  Anna  prayed  that  the  har 
vest  would  be  to-morrow.  She  wanted  to  be  busy  again — 
in  a  fury  of  labor. 

With  every  hour  a  fear  grew  in  her — fear  of  the  smiling 
yellow  people  who  encircled  her  about.  Her  eyes  had  been 
opened  to  the  real  Tazumi,  and  in  unreasonable  reaction  she 
began  to  distrust  his  entire  race.  Yet  she  had  no  grounds 
for  disliking  him,  she  told  herself.  Measured  by  his  own 
standards,  he  was  still  a  very  noble  gentleman,  quite  un 
blamable  for  following  the  customs  of  his  country.  Only 
his  standards  were  not  hers. 

Her  cheeks  would  flush  with  the  thought  of  the  weak 
hour  in  which  she  had  regarded  him,  driven  as  she  was  by 
necessity,  as  a  marriageable  possibility. 

She  had  left  San  Francisco  without  seeing  him  again. 
He  must  have  known  why.  Zudie  had  hinted  that  he  would 
never  forgive  the  slight.  Was  Anna  growing  to  fear  this 
little  man  whose  influence  could  reach  from  Tokio  to 
Washington,  from  Washington  to  the  remotest  corner  of 
Orient-ridden  California  ? 

In  Zudie's  face,  too,  she  read  the  picture  of  distress. 
Her  little  sister's  eyes  were  unusually  serious  as  she  walked 
alone  by  the  river  or  sat  in  the  shadows  of  the  veranda 

228 


HENRY'S  TRANSLATIONS  229 

reading  to  Nan  and  Kipps.  Anna's  fate  was  to  stand  alone, 
she  now  felt.  Dune  Leacy  had  deserted  her  to  all  appear 
ances.  His  capable  person  was  absent  from  the  Ely  porch, 
and  his  absence  was  felt.  Quite  evidently  Anna's  presence 
at  Tazumi's  party  had  settled  something  in  Leacy 's  preju 
diced  mind. 

Sometimes  Anna  thought  she  could  see  his  big  roadster 
dashing  rapidly  along  the  road  through  Ely.  She  hated 
herself  for  the  wish  that  it  would  pause  at  the  white  gate 
and  turn  in  as  it  used  to  do. 

As  harvest  week  approached  Matsu  and  Shimba  grew 
noisy  with  implements  of  wood  and  iron.  The  drama  cen 
tered  round  the  gallows  tree,  where  a  lye  kettle  was  soon 
to  simmer.  Shimba,  urging  the  big  gray  mare,  would  gallop 
cross-lots  with  a  wagonload  of  crates  to  dump  them  clat 
tering  on  a  pile  beside  the  dipping  platform.  All  day 
Matsu  was  stacking  the  long  flat  trays  upon  which  the 
prunes  would  be  drying  ere  the  change  of  another  moon. 
Out  in  the  orchards  the  Japanese  citizens  from  Hawaii 
drove  the  old  brown  horse,  which  had  been  hitched  to  a 
contrivance  designed  to  smooth  and  flatten  the  soil  in  the 
circles  where  the  fruit  would  fall.  Mrs.  Matsu  waddled 
in  ^nd  out  of  the  shed  carrying  chemicals  with  which  to 
scour  the  lye  kettle.  Preparation  was  in  the  air,  and  the 
sight  was  consoling  to  Anna's  eyes. 

But  now  began  the  race  with  the  weather.  Brilliant  sun 
shine  had  ceased;  mornings  were  dull  and  rain  clouds 
frowned  above  the  far  Sierras.  A  week  of  rain  in  the 
midst  of  picking  season  can  play  havoc  with  a  prune  har 
vest — fruit  will  mildew  on  the  drying  ground  and  half  a 
season's  crop  will  be  cast  to  the  swine. 

Rain  was  in  the  air.  Every  morning  Shimba  would  raise 
his  flat  nose  and  sniff  like  a  hunting  dog.  Surely  heaven 
was  threatening  the  farmer  with  a  new  unkindness. 


230  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 


Henry  Johnson,  the  Eurasian  philosopher,  remained  the 
one  calm  amidst  turmoil.  He  lurked  in  out-of-the-way 
places,  his  object,  quite  frankly,  to  avoid  work.  The  sight 
of  him  never  failed  to  drive  Susan  Skelley  to  distraction. 

'The  wall-eyed  pickerel  wid  a  Chinee  face  and  a  Jew 
nose!"  she  stormed.  "He  ain't  useful  an'  he  ain't  orna 
mental.  Anny  Chinee's  good  for  washin'  clothes.  Will  he 
wash  clothes  ?  He  will  not !  When  I  set  'im  to  turnin'  th' 
wringer,  what  does  he  do  ?  Stands  there  wid  his  mule  face, 
talkin'  about  th'  municipal  polyticks  av  ancient  Greece.  An* 
he  should  know  about  grease,  if  annywan  does.  He's  made 
av  ut.  Aven  th'  Japs'll  have  nawthin'  to  do  wid  um.  An* 
what  the  Japs  won't  touch  is  spoilt — it's  true,  I'm  tellin'  ye." 

Susan  would  finish  her  diatribe  with  a  moment  of  relent 
ing,  characteristically  Celtic. 

"Wid  all  thim  ann-sisters  fightin'  inside  his  sowl,  he  gits 
away  wid  ut  pretty  well,  I'll  say  ut.  He  talks  in  his  sleep 
to  avide  wor-r-k,  but  he  says  somethin'  now  an'  agin'.  An' 
mark  me  wor-r-d,  there's  an  Irish  potato  somewhere  on  his 
fam'ly  tree." 

Over  Henry  Johnson's  frowzy  head  Susan's  criticism 
popped  as  harmlessly  as  hail  pops  from  the  stony  skull  of 
an  ancient  image  in  the  gardens  of  old  Nippon.  Henry's 
constant  stream  of  theorizing  whenever  she  saw  him  con 
vinced  Anna  that  Susan  was  right  in  at  least  one  particular 
— Henry  talked  in  his  sleep  to  avoid  work. 

One  lowering  afternoon — Anna  had  sent  Henry  over  to 
the  sheds  to  help  Shimba  with  the  trays — she  heard  a  pe 
culiar  mirthless  cackle  of  laughter  floating  from  the  willow 
trees  down  by  the  stream,  which  had  shrunk  to  a  silvery 
thread  during  the  dry  months.  Henry  had  not  presented 
himself  at  the  shed.  She  found  him  smoking  by  the  river, 
his  back  against  a  twisted  trunk.  Several  newspapers  lay 
in  the  weeds  beside  him,  and  in  his  hands  he  held  another, 


HENRY'S  TRANSLATIONS  881 

seemingly  the  object  of  his  jeers.  So  deep  was  his  ab 
straction  that  she  came  almost  upon  him,  and  could  see  the 
characters  on  the  newspapers.  They  were  Japanese. 

At  that  instant  Henry  reached  another  humorous  passage 
apparently,  for  he  raised  his  cackle  shriller  than  before. 

"Japanese  funny  papers?"  asked  Anna,  always  unable  to 
scold  the  poor  Eurasian. 

"Very,"  agreed  Henry,  rising  and  showing  Anna  to  a 
seat  on  a  log.  This  was  done  with  a  flourish  as  though  the 
river  bank  were  his  own  drawing-room. 

"You  ought  to  know" — she  tried  her  best  to  be  severe — 
"that  this  is  a  busy  time  on  the  ranch." 

"I  should,"  he  agreed  with  a  suppressed  yawn.  "But 
what  are  you  going  to  do  with  me,  Mrs.  Ely?  The  subject 
of  prunes  bores  me  this  afternoon.  Like  Horace,  grown  a 
little  bald,  my  only  desire  is  to  drowse  like  a  dog  in  some 
sunny  corner  of  Sabina." 

"That's  all  very  well,  Henry,"  she  persisted,  "but  when 
you're  working  for  wages " 

"That's  a  subject  I  wanted  to  bring  up,"  he  declared, 
raising  a  long  hand.  "Do  you  realize  that  you  are  paying 
me  entirely  too  much  ?  I  have  decided  to  strike  for  shorter 
hours  and  a  smaller  wage.  Suppose  you  cut  me  a  dollar 
a  day,  and  allow  me  an  hour  in  the  afternoons  to  read  my 
Japanese  papers  and  enjoy  a  good  laugh.  There  is  all  too 
little  laughter  in  this  world." 

"Just  what  do  you  find  to  laugh  at  in  your  papers  ?"  she 
inquired,  her  curiosity  roused. 

"In  playing  with  a  hornet's  nest,  who  can  say  which  one 
of  the  interesting  insects  has  been  the  first  to  sting?  Hav 
ing  no  sense  of  humor,  the  Japanese  can  be  very  funny. 
This  paper  I  am  holding  is  a  representative  organ  of  San 
Francisco.  It  is  written  entirely  for  Nipponese  consump 
tion,  and  because  the  language  is  quite  difficult  for  Ameri 
cans,  it  speaks  out  and  says  about  what  it  wants  to. 

"Here,  for  instance,  is  a  sprightly  item  about  the  Natural 


232  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

Energy  Fruit  and  Land  Company.  It  praises  the  energy  of 
K.  Sato,  the  fifteen-million-dollar  organizer,  and  calls  him 
the  greatest  orator  in  America.  'Because/  it  says,  'in  a  land 
where  money  alone  talks  sweetly  the  Honorable  Sato  can 
if  necessary  command  sufficient  golden  language  to  outtalk 
the  United  States  Senate.'  " 

Anna  had  accepted  Henry's  log,  from  whose  farther  end 
she  saw  his  queer  gray  eyes  twinkling  under  their  flat  lids 
as  he  stood  respectfully. 

"Rather  humorous  that,  eh  what  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  fail  to  see  it,"  admitted  Anna,  folding  her  hands. 
"What  else  is  there  to  laugh  at  ?" 

"Our  mutual  friend,  Baron  Tazumi,  has  broken  out 
again,"  he  announced,  squinting  into  the  perpendicular  lines 
of  the  front  page. 

"Has  he?" 

He  glanced  sharply  at  her  over  the  top  of  the  paper  and 
prefaced  his  reading  with  the  explanation:  "The  Japanese 
have  a.  proverb  which  says,  'You  cannot  tear  paper  the 
wrong  ,way,'  much  as  you  say,  'You  cannot  float  up  stream.' 
You  know  how  hard  it  is  to  whistle  and  sing  at  the  same 
time?  Well,  our  distinguished  racial  half  brother  seems 
to  have  perfected  himself  in  the  art.  A  sweet  song  of  love 
for  American  interviewers.  A  sharp  whistle  of  hate  for 
Japanese  readers:  I  wonder  what  has  happened  to  the 
Baron?  Never  before  has  he  been  so  openly  bitter  against 
the  blond  race  of  which  I  am  a  poor  half  portion." 

"I  can't  imagine,"  answered  Anna,  though  she  had  made 
her  guess.  "But  what  does  he  say?" 

"He  has  gone  to  Seattle,  it  seems,  and  was  given  an  ova 
tion  by  the  Japanese  there.  It  was  one  of  those  spontaneous 
affairs  carefully  arranged  by  the  Beneficent  Society.  The 
account  of  his  speech  is  headed,  'Jewel  Words  from  Great 
Lips.'  Here  is  a  handful  of  those  gems : 

"  'Be  of  stout  heart,  my  people,  for  ye  are  sprung  from 
the  land  of  the  gods.  Even  though  you  go  forth  into  the 


HENRY'S  TRANSIT        >NS  233 

outlands  to  toil  among  mocking  tribe  ,  yet  heaven  is  with 
you  because  the  divine  Emperor  is  win  you. 

"  'They  cannot  check  our  peaceful  progress  in  this  land, 
or  in  any  other  where  our  divine  Emperor  has  sent  us  to 
toil  in  his  name.  If  they  build  laws  to  wall  themselves 
about  and  exclude  us  we  will  tear  down  those  laws  or  dig 
under  them.  In  America  we  are  already  inside,  and  we 
shall  remain  for  the  glory  of  the  Emperor. 

"  'Small  as  we  are  in  numbers  here,  let  us  see  to  it  that 
our  race  shall  increase.  Seed  of  Yarnato,  germinate  anew ! 
Beget,  beget,  beget!  While  the  Emperor  permitted  it,  it 
was  well  that  you  brought  wives  from  the  homeland — 
young  wives,  and  fertile.  And  now  it  is  more  important 
still  that  we  marry  into  this  American  stock.  Prove  your 
race  equality  in  the  blood  of  your  children.  Choose  white 
women  if  you  can.  Where  this  is  not  practicable,  marry 
negroes,  Indians,  Hawaiians. 

"  'Do  not  fear  that  our  race  shall  be  lost  in  such  a  min 
gling  of  blood.  The  blood  of  Japan  is  immortal,  because  it 
is  descended  from  the  sun  goddess,  Amaterasu.  Plant  it 
where  you  will,  Yamato's  seed  shall  never  die.  Even  unto 
the  tenth  generation  Japanese  with  blond  skins  and  blue 
eyes  will  still  be  Japanese,  quick  with  the  one  God-given 
virtue — loyalty  to  empire  and  the  Emperor/  " 

Henry  Johnson  ceased  to  read  and  permitted  the  paper  to 
fall  across  his  shabby  shoes. 

"What  else  did  he  say  ?"  asked  Anna  in  a  choking  voice. 

"Not  much,"  smiled  Henry.  "After  these  few  remarks 
ice  cream  was  served  and  a  good  time  was  enjoyed  by  all 
present." 

iii 

She  struggled  a  while  with  a  difficult  question,  then  said, 
"Henry,  do  many  of  the  Japanese  want  to-^-to  marry 
white  women?" 


234  SEED  L  ;  SUN 

"Well,"  he  informed  her,  "you  have  just  heard  the 
Baron's  speech  translated." 

"I  can't  believe  that  he  could  suggest  anything  so  cold 
blooded." 

"The  temperature  of  blood,"  drawled  Henry  Johnson,  "is 
merely  a  relative  matter.  What  seems  cold  in  California 
may  seem  warm  in  Japan.  Suicide,  for  instance.  Here  it 
is  a  crime,  there  a  virtue.  Nippon  applauds  the  hero  who 
operates  upon  himself  with  a  short  sword." 

"Henry,  you  exaggerate,"  his  employer  cautioned  him. 
"Hara-kiri  has  gone  out  of  style  in  Japan." 

"Yes?  Not  so  many  years  ago  General  Nogi  murdered 
himself  in  order  to  join  his  old  Emperor  in  the  land  of 
souls.  He  had  no  sooner  struck  the  blow  than  all  Nippon 
cried,  'There  dies  the  last  gentleman  in  Japan!'  To-day 
Nogi  is  enshrined  as  a  god  with  an  altar  of  his  own  and 
plenty  of  priests  to  comfort  his  spirit  with  incense.  It 
makes  a  pretty  picture.  Religion  and  politics  again,  you 
observe." 

"Why  do  the  Japanese  want  to  marry  into  other  races?" 
Anna  broke  in. 

"Just  look  at  me!"  snarled  Henry  Johnson.  "Am  I  not 
a  noble  example  of  inter-marriage?" 

"But  why  do  they  want  it?"  she  persisted. 

"They  want  to  borrow  your  stature,"  he  said.  "They 
have  already  borrowed  your  telegraph  instruments,  your 
educational  systems,  your  military  equipment,  your  adver 
tising  methods.  They  have  borrowed  your  brain,  but  they 
cannot  change  their  bodies  without  one  thing — intermar 
riage.  Don't  you  see  ?  Four  feet  six  wants  to  become  six 
feet  four.  Then  Japan  will  have  everything." 

"Your  theories  are  sometimes  a  trifle  far-fetched,  I  am 
afraid,"  said  Anna,  rising. 

Henry  Johnson  bowed  with  the  air  of  a  great  gentleman 
showing  a  guest  out  of  his  drawing-room. 

"I  suppose  so.    And  now,  Mrs.  Bly,  in  pursuance  of  my 


HENRY'S  TRANSLATIONS  235 

far-fetchedness,  will  you  permit  me  to  say  something  for 
your  own  good  ?" 

She  stared  at  his  badly  joined  features,  and  found  there 
nothing  of  the  mocking  look  they  usually  wore  for  the 
world.  Every  muscle  in  his  queer  face  was  .tense  with  a 
burning  seriousness,  and  his  voice  deepened  as  he  said: 
"This  is  an  impertinence.  I  am  of  very  little  use  to  you 
as  a  laborer,  Mrs.  Ely,  but  I  am  devoted  to  you  and  to 
your  sister.  You  have  shown  kindness  to  a  mongrel  dog, 
and  though  he  may  snap  and  bite  at  others,  it  is  never  at 
you." 

"I  appreciate  that,  Henry,"  said  Anna,  pitying  and  won 
dering  at  the  same  time. 

"If  you  wish  to  send  me  away  for  what  I'm  going  to  say 
it  will  be  all  right.  I  have  earned  enough  here,  and  I  shall 
be  going  back — back  home  pretty  soon." 

"I  shan't  send  you  away,"  she  promised,  "but  please  tell 
me." 

"Mrs.  Ely,  would  you  like  to  have  this  smart  fellow,  Mr. 
Oki,  for  a  brother-in-law?" 

"Mr.  Oki!"  she  cried.  "What  in  the  world  do  you 
mean?" 

"The  Japanese  all  over  Ely  are  gossiping  of  his  ambitions 
—that's  all." 

"What  idle,  silly  nonsense,  Henry !"  she  said. 

"Exactly."  He  thrust  his  hands  into  his  shabby  pockets. 
"But  I  am  telling  you  what  Mr.  Oki  is  permitting  his 
friends  to  believe." 

"But  he's  never  seen  my  sister  more  than  half  a  dozen 
times." 

"In  Japan  that  would  be  regarded  as  a  great  many." 

How  Zudie  would  laugh,  thought  Anna,  when  she  heard 
of  this !  Yet  to  Anna  it  was  no  laughing  matter. 

"Some  time  when  we  are  not  all  so  busy,"  the  mongrel 
philosopher  was  drawling  on,  "I  shall  tell  you  about  my- 


236  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

self.  Maybe  you  will  see  then  what  occurs  in  improving 
the  Japanese  race." 

Anna  stood  in  a  daze,  looking  through  the  willow  twigs 
down  to  the  river  below.  On  the  steep  bank  her  active, 
freckled  Kipps  was  flying  a  Japanese  kite  which  he  had 
borrowed  from  John  Matsu.  Purple  winged,  demon  faced, 
gaudily  colored,  it  darted  spitefully  and  ascended  in  wild 
swoops.  Across  its  paper  belly  she  could  see  the  three  black 
characters  in  Japanese. 

"Those  are  strange  words  written  on  the  kite/'  Henry 
Johnson  was  saying. 

But  Anna  moved  away  toward  the  ranch  house. 


CHAPTER  XXI:  STRATEGIC  RETREAT 


NOW  the  prune  has  been  chosen  among  the  fruits  of 
the  earth  to  be  a  thing  of  affectionate  ridicule.  It 
is  the  food  of  humorists,  its  only  rival  being  the  lemon — 
also  an  important  product  of  the  state  of  California.  The 
economical  sugary  quality  of  the  prune  has  immortalized 
it  in  the  annals  of  boarding-house  wit;  the  newspaper  para- 
grapher  would  be  at  a  loss  for  an  adequate  substitute.  In 
the  dear  dead  days  when  eating  was  regarded  as  a  neces 
sity  rather  than  a  luxury  the  prune  was  looked  upon  as 
something  to  be  pitied  because  of  its  generous  abundance. 
Colorless  and  ineffectual  people  were  labeled  Prune — in  ex 
aggerated  cases  Poor  Prune.  At  least  so  it  was  in  the 
crowded  cities  where  hard  asphalt  smothered  Mother  Na 
ture  and  the  eye  grew  inflamed  from  the  gaudy  flippancy 
of  theatrical  posters. 

But  in  the  warm  dry  valleys  of  California  the  prune  has 
never  been  a  joke.  There  in  late  summer  and  early  fall 
wide  acres  are  empurpled  with  the  drying  fruit,  laid  out 
on  many  trays  under  a  beneficent  sun.  The  entire  labor 
market  is  unsettled  by  the  harvest.  Warehouses  groan,  box 
cars  are  filled  to  bursting,  fortunes  are  made  and  lost  in 
speculation  on  this  fruit  of  mediocrity. 

The  sky  continued  to  lower,  but  the  black  clouds  held 
rain  like  a  threat  over  Sacramento  Valley.  The  crop  had 
come  on  in  earnest  now.  Sufficient  fruit  had  fallen  to  the 
ground  to  justify  a  half  force  of  Japanese  pickers. 

It  was  no  wonder  then  that  Anna  Ely's  heart  was  thrilled 

237 


238  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

with  the  spectacle  of  Shimba's  men  busy  under  the  trees. 
The  old  gray  mare,  straining  at  the  traces,  brought  his  cart 
loads  of  fruit-laden  boxes  to  the  busy  lye  kettle  and  trotted 
back  again  with  empty  crates.  Matsu  stood  on  the  plat 
form  beside  the  steaming  broth,  pouring  ripe  prunes  into 
the  basket,  while  the  efficient  boy,  John  Matsu,  managed  the 
old  brown  horse,  which  had  been  hitched  to  the  pulley  rope 
for  the  purpose  of  lowering  prune  loads  into  the  lye  solution 
and  hoisting  them  out  again,  a  process  which  grew  into  ob 
solescence  in  the  days  of  President  McKinley. 

Everybody  was  at  work  now.  Anna,  Zudie  and  little 
Kipps  each  got  a  bucket  and  labored  on  hands  and  knees, 
picking  the  ripe  blue  plums  off  the  ground  along  the  orchard 
rows.  Mrs.  Matsu  and  Shimba's  child  wife,  hidden  under 
their  big  sunbonnets,  crouched  beneath  the  trees,  picking 
and  picking.  Shimba  picked,  too,  but  his  industry  was 
often  interrupted  by  his  task  of  slave  driving. 

The  prune  gang  worked  short  hours  for  the  first  few 
days,  because,  as  Shimba  explained,  the  fruit  would  not  be 
dropping  in  quantity  for  another  week. 

"We'll  be  rich,  Shimba!"  exclaimed  Anna  one  night  as 
she  stood  with  her  Asiatic  coworker  and  looked  down  into 
a  bin.  The  floor  was  already  covered  with  her  purple, 
wrinkled  treasures. 

"Good  prune!"  replied  Shimba  stolidly. 

His  eyes,  twinkling  like  black  coals  through  the  slits  in 
his  mask,  disturbed  her  with  a  feeling  of  uneasiness. 

"What's  the  matter,  Shimba  ?  Aren't  they  coming  on  all 
right?" 

"Plenty  nice  prune,"  he  answered,  and  showed  his  pro 
truding  teeth  in  a  grin.  "Much  few  now.  To-morrow 
more,  maybe.  Next  day  more.  Prune  no  begin  to  jump  off 
tree  earnestly  yet.  Then  I  get  more  Japanese  boy.  We 
fetch  everything  nice  O.  K." 

"Could  anything  happen  now?"  she  urged,  faint  with  an 
unreasonable  fear. 


STRATEGIC  RETREAT  239 

"Rain  could  happen/'  he  replied.  "Prune  too  much 
plenty.  'Mission  merchant  pay  twerve  se'  a  pound  this 
districk  for  best  style  prune.  In  Santa  Crara  Varrey  he 
pay  fo'teen." 

"They  raise  better  prunes  in  the  Santa  Clara  Valley,"  she 
admitted  again. 

"Oh,  pretty  prune  from  there !  All  best  business  prune 
come  from  Santa  Crara,"  he  twinkled.  "But  you  keep 
happy,  boss.  Prune  happen  O.  K." 

These  were  but  the  days  of  minor  engagements  before 
the  battle  when  the  prunes,  as  Shimba  had  promised,  should 
begin  jumping  earnestly  off  trees.  Every  afternoon  at 
about  four  o'clock  the  elegant  Mr.  Oki  would  come  saun 
tering  down  the  drive  to  stroll  through  the  orchards  and 
poke  the  low-lying  fruit  with  the  ferrule  of  his  cane.  Then 
he  would  walk  over  to  the  ranch  house  to  make  pretty  pres 
ents  and  prettier  compliments. 

Anna  always  arranged  that  Zudie,  at  the  calling  hour, 
was  either  out  driving  or  lying  down  or  busy  in  the  kitchen. 
Several  times  she  was  on  the  point  of  telling  him  candidly 
just  why  Miss  Brand  was  not  to  be  seen,  but  Oki  gave 
her  no  chance.  There  was  the  elusive  thing  about  the  man. 
He  seemed  to  sense  the  situation  without  so  much  as  a 
word.  He  never  asked  about  Zudie  or  betrayed  that  he 
recognized  her  existence.  He  seemed  to  take  his  rejection 
by  proxy  with  sublime  calm. 

One  afternoon — it  was  on  the  eve  of  the  big  day  when 
picking  on  a  grand  scale  was  to  begin — his  manner  irritated 
Anna  to  a  point  where  she  forgot  herself  and  spoke  di 
rectly. 

"Mr.  Oki,"  she  said,  "haven't  you  taken  a  great  deal  for 
granted?" 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Bly !"  he  exclaimed,  not  troubling  to  ask  what 
he  had  taken  for  granted. 

"You  have  been  spreading  idle  reports  about  my  sister 
among  the  Japanese." 


240  SEED  OF  f  HE  SUN 

"Ah,  I  suspect  it!  Some  evil  brain  has  been  gossiping 
to  discredit  me." 

"Yes,"  she  agreed,  "I  should  say  that  it  does  discredit 
you,  Mr.  Oki." 

"You  must  not  believe  that  woman,"  he  told  her,  speak 
ing  under  his  breath. 

"What  woman?" 

"That  Mrs.  Awaga  and  her  preacher.  If  you  knew,  Mrs. 
Ely !  All  Japanese  in  town  are  sorry  to  have  such  bad  peo 
ple  here.  Always  to  make  mischief  and  spread  false  lies." 

"Mrs.  Awaga  hasn't  said  a  word  to  me,"  declared  Anna. 
"She  is  as  good  a  Christian  woman  as  I  know;  she  would 
never  spread  a  false  report."  v 

"Ah,  if  you  knew,  Mrs.  Ely!"  he  persisted  with  his  pious 
smile.  "I,  too,  am  a  Christian,  Mrs.  Ely.  But  I  could  not 
think  of  those  Awagas  representing  that  sacred  doctrine." 

"I  don't  doubt  your  sincerity,"  said  Anna,  though  that 
was  the  very  thing  she  doubted. 

"And  if  I  make  a  bad  impression  upon  your  farm,  please 
inform  me  to  keep  away,"  implored  the  elegant  Mr.  Oki. 

"I'm  sorry  that  you've  been  misrepresented,"  she  de 
murred. 

Whereupon  he  said  an  astonishing  thing. 

"Do  you  entertain  some  race  prejudices  against  my  re 
spects  to  your  sister?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Anna. 

"Matrimonial  respects,"  he  announced  mellifluously. 

"Since  you  put  it  so>  plainly,"  she  replied,  hot  blood  rush 
ing  to  her  cheeks,  "I  most  certainly  do." 

"Ah !"  Mr.  Oki  rose  and  made  his  most  elaborate  bow. 
"Then  that  is  where  I  am  more  broad-minded  than  you, 
Mrs.  Ely,"  he  said  triumphantly.  "Good  afternoon,  Mrs. 
Ely!" 


STRATEGIC  RETREAT  841 

ii 

Whatever  indignation  burned  in  her  heart  that  night  was 
blown  away  by  the  dramatic  turn  of  the  morrow. 

She  had  set  her  alarm  clock  for  five  and  gone  to  sleep 
praying  that  rain  would  not  overtake  them,  for  she  knew 
that  the  harvest  was  now  on  full  blast  and  Shimba  would 
bring  an  augmented  force  into  the  field  to  begin  the  sea 
son's  real  work. 

Anna  and  Zudie  and  Susan  Skelley  had  finished  break 
fast  by  lamplight,  having  eaten  nervously,  as  soldiers  will 
before  the  hour  of  battle.  Zudie,  who  had  been  all  moods 
since  she  had  quarreled  again  with  Sid  Footridge,  was  the 
first  to  go  into  the  field.  Anna  hurried  through  her  house 
hold  duties.  She  was  upstairs  bathing  little  Nan  when 
Zudie  came  back,  curiously  calm  as  she  entered  the  room. 

"Ann,"  she  began,  "weren't  the  pickers  to  begin  early  this 
morning?" 

"Why,  I  understood  so." 

Anna's  heart  went  cold  as  she  stood  facing  that  calm 
look. 

"There's  not  a  person  stirring  on  the  place.  They  haven't 
built  a  fire  under  the  kettle.  The  horse  is  still  unharnessed. 
They " 

"Zude,  what  on  earth  are  you  talking  about  ?"  Anna  fairly 
screamed  as  she  dropped  the  wash  cloth  at  Nan's  feet. 

She  went  scurrying  down  the  stairs  and  out  into  the 
orchards.  Fruit  lay  thick  like  a  circular  blue  carpet  under 
every  tree.  No  sound  came  to  her  ears  but  the  song  of 
meadow  larks,  irritatingly  beautiful.  Distantly,  too,  she 
could  hear  tractors  chug-chugging  on  the  main  road. 

What  pestilence  had  struck  her  farm?  Where  were  her 
pickers?  Over  the  cold  lye  kettle  the  prune  basket  swung 
neglected  on  its  gallows.  The  empty  wagon  stood,  its  thills 
upraised,  beside  a  silent  stable. 

This  was  madness!    She  ran  down  the  stubbly  path  to- 


SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

ward  the  shedlike  houses  on  the  river  bank.  She  passed 
John  Matsu  flying  his  hideous-faced  kite  against  the  leaden 
sky. 

"Where's  your  father?"  she  asked  harshly. 

"What  say,  boss?"  he  stared  blankly. 

"Don't  you  understand  English?" 

"No  un'stand." 

"What  do  you  go  to  school  for?"  she  shrilled. 

"No  un'stand." 

He  ran  away,  the  demon  kite  plunging  at  him  as  he 
ran. 

By  Shimba's  open  door  she  found  the  picture  bride  gaz 
ing  at  her  like  a  frightened  little  animal. 

"Where  is  your  husband?"  asked  Anna,  trying  to  show 
kindness  to  this  beaten  thing. 

"No  un'stand." 

"Isn't  there  anybody  here?" 

"No  un'stand." 

Anna  plunged  into  the  house  to  meet  Shimba  shaving 
leisurely  by  the  window. 

"What's  the  meaning  of  all  this,  Shimba?"  she  accosted 
him.  "The  prunes  are  falling  in  tons  on  the  ground.  There 
isn't  a  picker  in  sight." 

"Strike,"  he  said,  and  showed  his  protruding  teeth 
through  a  coat  of  lather. 

"Strike!" 

She  could  have  torn  the  little  house  from  its  foundations 
and  brought  it  crashing  down  on  Shimba's  bullet  head. 

Shimba  waited  until  he  had  wiped  the  fluffy  mat  from  his 
chin,  then  he  showed  his  brightest  smile  to  explain  "Japa 
nese  boy  no  like  this  place.  Too  bad.  I  lose  prenty  money 
— you  lose  prenty  money.  I  no  could  do  something  to  make 
him  stay.  Laba  condition  too  wicked  this  year." 

"What  do  they  want?    Why  didn't  you  tell  me?" 

"They  kick  too  much.  Ode-fashion  prune-dip  work 
make  all  boys  mad." 


STRATEGIC  RETREAT  243 


"I  offered  to  get  you  a  new  dipping  machine  long  ago/' 
she  reminded  him. 

Shimba  went  on  shaving. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  do  anything?"  she  panted,  settling 
down  on  a  rough  chair  to  spare  her  trembling  knees. 

"I  go  to  Sac-er-mento,"  he  explained.  "There  mebbe 
I  can  find  some  more  laba  condition." 

"Can't  you  hurry?"  she  urged,  on  the  point  of  weeping. 
"The  fruit  will  be  rotting  by  night." 

"I  could  do  what  possible,"  he  volunteered. 

"We'll  all  of  us  pick,"  she  said.  "Matsu  and  his  wife 
and  John  and  my  sister  and  I  and  Kipps." 

"Matsu  and  his  wife  go  too,"  announced  Shimba  cheer 
fully,  grinning  into  the  mirror. 

"Go?    Where  did  they  go?" 

"They  make  strike  with  everybody." 

Indignation  surged  back  into  her  heart.  She  thought  of 
the  care  she  had  given  Matsu's  fifth  baby,  of  the  devotion 
she  had  shown  the  woman  in  those  hours  when  help  was 
needed.  So  Matsu  and  his  wife  had  gone  too ! 

"What  in  the  name  of  mercy  did  they  strike  for?"  she 
asked  as  soon  as  she  was  able. 

"Laba  condition,"  was  all  she  could  get  out  of  her  lessee. 

"But  don't  you  care?    You'll  be  losing  your  share  too." 

"I  care  prenty,"  he  grunted.  "But  could  I  do  something 
by  cry  ?  I  get  prenty  Japanese  boy  too  quick." 

Anna  gave  up  and  went  out  into  the  fields.  What  insane 
odds  were  against  her  now!  Three  women  and  a  boy  to 
lift  those  heavy  trays  and  manage  a  basket  which  two 
strong  men  could  scarcely  swing.  Even  though  they  could 
pick  the  prunes  off  the  ground,  who  was  to  attend  to  the 
more  important  work  of  drying  them? 

The  elegant  Mr.  Oki  came  sauntering  down  the  drive. 

"Good  morning,  Mrs.  Bly!"  he  said,  giving  his  cocoa- 
butter  smile  as  he -lifted  his  hat.  "Labor  trouble,  I  see. 


244  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

Isn't  it  abominable?  These  I.  W.  W.  fellow  do  make  some 
inroads  into  my  own  people,  I  fear." 

"WiH  you  tell  me  one  thing — as  honestly  as  you  can?" 
she  asked  him  coldly. 

"A  thousand,  Mrs.  Ely." 

"Why  have  those  Japanese  chosen  this  time  for  a  strike?" 

"They  are  very  superstitious,  Mrs.  Bly,"  smiled  Oki 
apologetically.  "This  we  cannot  educate  out  of  them. 
You  wiH  remember  how  the  late  Mrs.  Shimba  committed 
hanging  out  in  your  garage?" 

"What  has  that  to  do  with  it?" 

"They  are  ver-r-y  prejudiced  against  places  with  ghosts 
on  them,  Mrs.  Bly.  A  foolish  thing  for  which  I  am  mwch 
ashamed." 


CHAPTER  XXII:  APPARITIONS 


IN  books  of  mythology  Anna  had  read  of  tasks  which 
sarcastic  gods  had  imposed  upon  mortals  for  their  un 
doing.  There  was  a  Norse  hero,  who — to  save  his  neck — 
was  required  to  drain  a  giant  drinking  horn  while  the  sly 
gods  poured  all  the  ocean  in  at  the  other  end.  Proud  Her 
cules,  too,  had  been  demoted  to  the  rank  of  stable  boy  and 
required  to  accomplish  a  nightmare  task  single-handed. 

But  hero  men  had  been  endowed  with  hero  strength  with 
which  to  meet  their  trials.  Anna  was  not  strong  bodily; 
this  she  had  learned  after  the  first  hard  tests  on  the  farm. 
It  was  all  very  well  on  the  hour  when  labor  had  betrayed 
her  for  her  to  make  heroic  resolutions.  It  was  all  very  well 
for  Zudie  to  put  an  arm  round  her  waist  and  say,  "We'll 
work  it  out  some  way,  Ann.  Women  can  pick  prunes,  and 
between  us  we'll  be  able  to  save  most  of  the  crop  until 
Shimba  hires  another  gang." 

"Forty  acres  of  them!" 

Anna  looked  despairingly  across  the  mathematical  pre 
cision  of  her  orchards,  where  the  sun,  which  broke  fiercely 
through  the  threatening  clouds,  was  already  turning  ripe 
ness  to  decay.  From  every  tree  the  little  plums  were  fall 
ing.  The  round  blue  carpets  were  thickening  into  mounds. 

Nevertheless  the  women  plunged,  as  best  they  could,  into 
the  task  which  the  sneering  god  of  growing  things  had  im 
posed  upon  them.  It  was  like  opposing  an  army  with  bare 
hands.  Kipps  was  the  only  enthusiastic  member  of  the 
amateur  harvest  crew.  To  him  was  given  the  job  of  driv- 

245 


SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

ing  the  gray  mare  between  field  and  the  lye  kettle.  The 
trips  were  far  too  few  to  suit  his  taste,  because  Anna  and 
Zudie  and  Susan  combined  made  slow  work  of  picking. 

Henry  Johnson  threw  himself  into  the  breech  with  a 
strength  and  efficiency  of  which  his  employer  had  never 
suspected  him.  Without  his  brawn  the  full-laden  prune 
boxes  would  never  have  been  swung  from  ground  to  wagon 
or  been  unloaded  again  beside  the  cold  boiling  furnace. 

"Th*  divvil  can  wor-r-rk  whin  th'  diwil's  to  pay,"  Susan 
snapped,  her  chisel  face  reddened  with  exertion  as  she 
watched  Henry's  feats  of  strength. 

Zudie  laughed,  but  poor  Anna  plodded  on,  too  disheart 
ened  now  for  any  earthly  comedy.  By  midmorning  she 
saw  the  futility  of  the  whole  thing.  Another  myth  floated 
into  her  distracted  mind.  What  hero  was  it  who,  when  he 
had  chopped  off  the  head  of  an  enemy,  found  that  ten  new 
enemies  leaped  up  from  the  fallen  corpse?  No  matter! 
The  task,  she  knew,  was  far  beyond  them.  They  were  be 
ing  buried  beneath  the  tons  of  their  rotting  wealth. 

Zudie  worked  bravely,  singing,  with  a  forced  assumption 
of  cheerfulness.  Susan  Skelley  remained  grim  but  she 
picked  two  prunes  to  Anna's  one.  Henry  Johnson,  as  he 
loaded  the  wagon,  lectured  on  and  on. 
.  "There  was  a  Japanese  poetess  named  Choya,"  he  in 
formed  his  associates  as  he  slouched  in  the  shade  of  a  prune 
tree.  "From  her  I  translate  the  poem,  'How  far  have  you 
gone  to-day  chasing  after  dragon  flies?'  This  wisdom  ap 
plies  to  much  of  our  well-meant  exertions." 

He  stroked  his  scraggly  beard  and  waited  as  though 
courting  controversy. 

"Here  we  have  demonstrated  the  power  of  the  strike," 
he  told  his  audience  chattily.  "The  irresistible  force  of 
nothing  doing.  The  pride  of  modern  labor  is  the  labor  it 
does  not  accomplish.  One  cannot  help  admiring  the  art 
with  which  this  strike  was  arranged;  it  struck  at  the  very 
soul  of  the  prune,  one  might  say." 


APPARITIONS  247 


Shut  up!"  snarled  Susan  Skelley,  approaching  with  a 
full  bucket. 

"Ah,  there  you  have  displayed  the  weakness  of  the  plu 
tocracy  !  You  say,  'Shut  up.'  I  open  all  the  wider." 

"Henry,"  asked  Zudie,  obviously  for  the  purpose  of 
bringing  him  down  from  the  heights  of  reason,  "why  don't 
you  talk  with  Shimba  and  find  out  what's  the  matter?" 

"Shimba  has  already  gone,"  announced  Henry.  "His 
destination,  he  says,  is  a  labor  bureau  in  Sacramento." 

"That's  no  reason  why  his  wife  and  John  Matsu  shouldn't 
be  working." 

"There  is  a  good  reason,  Miss  Brand.  Mrs.  Shimba  and 
the  Matsu  boy  were  in  his  car  when  he  departed  this  morn 
ing." 

Anna  looked  wearily  up,  but  said  nothing.  Words  were 
quite  beyond  her  now.  Toward  the  blazing  hour  of  noon 
she  found  the  courage  to  ask :  "Henry,  have  you  heard  the 
Japanese  talking  about  a  ghost  in  the  garage?" 

"They  are  always  talking  among  themselves  about  ghosts 
and  fox  women,"  he  replied,  his  long  face  very  serious. 

"Do  you  believe  they  saw  the  old  Mrs.  Shimba's  ghost?" 

Henry  Johnson's  queer  gray  eyes  twinkled  with  an  elfin 
light  as  he  replied:  "In  spiritualism  a  good  medium  can 
compel  his  audience  to  see  things  that  are  not  there." 

"Who  is  the  medium  in  this  case,  do  you  think?" 

"I  should  not  be  surprised  if  Mr.  Oki  had  gifts  in  that 
direction  as  in  others,"  drawled  Henry  Johnson. 

ii 

After  lunch,  all  the  boxes  being  full  and  stacked  round 
the  lye  kettle,  Anna  decided  that  dipping  time  had  come. 

"God  bless  yer  heart,"  moaned  Susan  Skelley,  "an*  ye 
couldn't  boil  potatoes  an'  git  'em  right!" 

It  was  Susan  who  built  a  twig  fire  under  the  lye  kettle, 
complaining  busily  the  while  that  "wid  anny  management 


248  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

we  might  o'  had  th'  wather  in  th'  kittle  hot  be  now  and 
thim  prunes,  bad  luck  to  thim,  scalded  an'  dhry." 

It  was  midafternoon  when  the  amateur  crew  got  actively 
to  work.  The  god  of  harvests,  looking  down  from  his 
Japanese  heaven,  should  have  pitied  the  sight.  Freckled 
Kipps,  proud  of  his  office,  had  hitched  the  old  brown  horse 
to  a  length  of  rope  which  passed  through  block  and  tackle 
on  the  gallows  tree.  Henry  Johnson,  refreshed  after  a 
comic  hour  with  his  Japanese  papers,  stood  on  the  platform 
and  emptied  the  first  box  of  prunes  into  the  dipping  basket. 
Zudie  had  elected  J:o  drive  the  gray  mare.  Anna  and  Susan 
were  to  load  the  trays  on  the  wagon,  a  muscular  task  for 
which  they  were  obviously  unfitted. 

It  was  a  nervous  moment  when  Kipps  backed  the  old 
brown  horse,  permitting  the  first  basket  of  prunes  to  plunge 
into  the  hot  lye  solution. 

"That's  enough,  darling!"  screamed  Anna  to  her  son 
when  the  basket  had  been  immersed  a  full  minute.  "Start 
the  horse — git-ap,  Rodger!" 

"Git-ap!"  shouted  Kipps  manfully,  bringing  a  willow 
twig  sharply  across  the  brown  flanks. 

Rodger  proved  unexpectedly  prompt.  At  the  stroke  of 
the  twig  he  leaped  forward,  dragging  Kipps  after  him  at 
the  end  of  the  reins. 

"Whoa!"  entreated  Anna  and  Susan  and  Zudie  and 
Henry  Johnson  in  a  discordant  unison. 

In  vain  their  pleadings.  Rodger  kept  right  on,  and  when 
at  last  he  halted  the  evil  work  was  done.  Something  had 
to  give  way.  The  gallows  had  groaned  and  bent  danger 
ously,  then  the  block  and  tackle  had  come  loose,  flying 
through  the  air  less  than  a  foot  above  Zudie's  head. 

Had  Anna  been  a  man  with  what  a  flood  of  oaths  might 
she  have  eased  her  bursting  heart!  A  basket  of  withered 
prunes  lay  scattered  over  the  trodden  ground.  The  air  was 
filled  with  steaming  odors  of  stewed  fruit.  Susan  Skelley, 
uttering  disdainful  grunts,  stooped  down  to  gather  prunes 


APPARITIONS  249 

in  her  apron.  Anna  ran  to  the  disobedient  Rodger  and  un 
hitched  him  from  his  rope. 

"Can  you  beat  it?"  asked  Kipps.  "I  didn't  think  the  old 
bird  had  that  much  life  in  him." 

"Henry,"  said  Anna  in  the  terrific  calm  of  despair,  "do 
you  think  anything  can  be  done  about  that  wheel  that  fell 
off?" 

"Certainly,  madam,"  replied  Henry,  quite  undisturbed. 
"The  nails  have  merely  come  loose.  What,  indeed,  are  nails 
for?  The  nail,  you  understand,  typifies  political  compro 
mise.  Where  the  strain,  on  the  one  hand,  is  too  great  and 
the  resistance,  on  the  other,  too  stubborn " 

"Aw,  dry  up!"  suggested  Susan  Skelley. 

Possibly  she  was  referring  to  the  fire,  which  had  been 
partially  extinguished  by  an  overflow  from  the  lye  kettle. 

This  was  but  an  incident  in  that  hard  afternoon  which 
proved  to  Anna  Ely  that  the  gods  had  imposed  a  labor  be 
yond  her  capacity. 

The  sun  was  slanting  far  westward  when  Henry  had  at 
last  mended  the  hoisting  apparatus.  Much  to  the  indigna 
tion  of  little  Kipps,  the  reins  were  passed  over  to  Zudie, 
and  another  basket  of  prunes  was  dipped,  hoisted  and 
emptied  upon  the  trays. 

"They're  quare  lookin',"  moaned  Susan  Skelley,  studying 
the  lye-immersed  fruit  which  Anna  had  spread  across  the 
slats. 

Queer  indeed!  Half  the  prunes  had  failed  to  wither 
properly,  had  swollen  to  what  experts  in  the  craft  describe 
as  "frog  bellies."  The  Japanese  workmen,  as  she  had 
watched  them,  had  always  brought  up  a  few  "frog  bellies" 
and  cast  them  aside  as  food  for  swine. 

"Perhaps  the  solution  is  too  strong,"  suggested  the  sud 
denly  useful  Henry. 

They  added  a  bucket  of  water.  The  next  bucket  to  come 
out  of  the  lye  contained  little  besides  "frog  bellies." 


250  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"It's  more  lye  yer're  needin',"  declared  Susan  Skelley 
with  an  air  of  superior  wisdom. 

More  lye  was  added.  The  prunes  that  followed  re 
sembled  nothing  so  much  as  a  convention  of  frogs,  horribly 
distended  with  feeding. 

Even  this  problem  might  have  yielded  to  experimenta 
tion,  but  the  sneering  gods  willed  otherwise. 

All  afternoon  the  little  girl,  Nan,  had  been  scrambling  in, 
out  and  over  every  object  on  the  scene  of  vain  endeavor. 
Inspired  by  her  seven  years'  genius  for  getting  in  the  way, 
she  had  buzzed  like  a  busy  gnat  in  Anna's  ear.  Far  too  dis 
tracted  to  comprehend,  Anna  had  been  but  vaguely  aware 
of  the  bright  head  and  checkered  pinafore. 

"Go  sit  on  the  wagon  with  Kipps,  dear,"  or  "Don't  play 
so  near  the  horse,"  or  "Keep  away  from  the  kettle,  Nan," 
she  had  repeated  unconsciously  as  though  her  other  .mind 
— her  maternal  mind — were  speaking  for  her,  watchfully 
guarding  the  thing  it  loved. 

Then  out  of  the  confusion  there  had  come  a  scream,  a 
child's  scream,  followed  by  Zudie's  cry,  "Oh,  Nan!" 

There  was  a  horrid  scrambling  on  the  platform.  Anna's 
first  thought  was  that  her  baby  had  fallen  into  the  boiling 
caldron.  She  saw  prunes  and  boxes  flying  into  air,  while 
Henry  Johnson's  skinny  arms  and  legs  performed  the  antics 
of  a  dancing  skeleton.  At  the  foot  of  the  platform  a  bundle 
of  blue  gingham  marked  Nan's  small  form,  where  it  had 
fallen. 

"My  baby !"  shrieked  Anna,  and  fell  on  her  knees  beside 
the  motionless  heap. 

A  thin  trickle  of  blood  stained  the  light  hair  and  dripped 
slowly  into  the  mother's  lap.  Then  Nan  opened  her  eyes 
and  began  to  cry,  a  pitiful,  welcome  sound. 

"Baby,  what  have  you  done!"  moaned  Anna,  striving  to 
stanch  the  blood  with  a  corner  of  her  apron. 

"Henry  wouldn't  give  me  any  prunes !"  wailed  Nan. 

"She  was  crawlin'  into  the  kittle,"  explained  Susan,  "an' 


APPARITIONS  251 

she'd  V  got  there  but  for  Hinry.  Bad  luck  to  um,  he  most 
kilt  'er  doin'  ut." 

So  closed  the  day's  work. 

Susan,  after  carrying  Nan  into  the  house,  made  a  rough 
and  ready  diagnosis.  The  small  girl,  snatched  from  the 
boiling  kettle  by  Henry's  quick  hand,  had  struck  her  head 
on  a  corner  of  the  platform.  It  was  no  serious  cut,  and  be 
fore  six  o'clock  Nan  was  asleep  in  bed,  Susan  having  served 
as  both  nurse  and  surgeon. 

iii 

After  supper  the  sisters,  heartbroken  with  fatigue  and 
too  discouraged  for  talk,  were  sitting  in  the  pretty  parlor 
for  whose  decoration  Anna  had  spent  beyond  her  means. 
They  still  maintained  a  show  of  calm,  and  would  have  gone 
through  that  bad  hour  without  breaking  the  thread  of  their 
straining  nerves  had  not  Kipps  come  in  with  just  the  ques 
tion  to  work  mischief.  His  hair  was  tousled  and  in  his 
gummy  little  hands  he  held  a  remarkable  fabrication  of 
sticks  and  canvas. 

"I'm  making  a  model  airplane,"  he  declared,  "and  when 
it  flies  it'll  put  all  those  bum  Japanese  kites  out  of  busi 
ness." 

"You  shouldn't  be  so  slangy,  dear,"  admonished  his 
mother  wearily. 

"Say,  moms,"  persisted  Kipps,  "we  don't  know  anything 
about  dipping  prunes  really,  do  we?" 

"I'm  afraid  we  don't,"  admitted  Anna  gently. 

"What  we  ought  to  have  is  a  he-man  on  the  place. 
Henry  Johnson's  all  right,  but  he's  an  awful  highbrow. 
Why  don't  we  telephone  to  Dune  Leacy  and " 

"It's  time  you  were  in  bed,  Kipps.  Come  kiss  your 
mother  and  trot !" 

Kipps  hesitated  over  his  aviation  experiment,  then  came 
over  to  throw  himself  in  his  mother's  arms. 


252  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"Why  don't  you,  moms?"  he  coaxed,  his  head  buried 
against  her  shoulder. 

"You're  asking  too  many  questions,  dear,"  said  Anna 
softly,  passing  her  fingers  through  the  heavy,  sun-bleached 
hair.  "Now  go  to  bed,  and  don't  mess  everything  up  with 
that  airplane." 

As  soon  as  he  had  withdrawn,  Zudie  looked  up  from  the 
magazine  she  had  been  studying  with  unseeing  eyes. 

"Ann,"  she  said,  "there  was  a  lot  of  sense  in  what  Kipps 
suggested." 

"Don't,  please!"  cried  Anna,  closing  her  eyes. 

"I  wouldn't,"  persisted  her  sister,  "but  we've  got  our 
selves  in  a  tight  corner." 

"Are  you  blaming  me  for  that?" 

Anna  sat  up,  her  face  flushed,  her  eyeballs  aching  dread 
fully.  If  people  would  only  let  her  alone ! 

"I'm  not  blaming  you  for  anything,"  Zudie  went  on,  but 
her  face  had  become  drawn  under  the  stress  of  a  temper 
which  would  have  its  way. 

"We're  in  a  tight  fix,  I  tell  you,"  she  said  rapidly,  as 
though  her  tongue  had  loosed  itself  from  a  controlling 
brain.  "We're  here  in  the  wilds,  surrounded  by  Japanese, 
not  a  friendly  soul  in  sight.  And  you  hadn't  any  business 
quarreling  with  Dune  Leacy.  He  might  have " 

"You  mustn't  talk  like  that  to  me,"  Anna  broke  in.  Then 
a  spiteful  imp  took  possession  of  her  and  prompted  her  to 
ask:  "While  you're  arranging  my  life  for  me,  why  don't 
you  settle  your  own?  If  you  hadn't  been  perfectly  per 
verse,  you  would  have  taken  Sid  Footridge  and  got  yourself 
out  of  this  mess." 

"I  don't  care  to  discuss  it,"  proclaimed  Zudie  as  she 
swept  out  of  the  room. 

It  was  then  that  Anna  gave  way  to  tears — the  easy,  un 
reasoning  tears  of  a  child.  She  was  so  tired!  And  so 
alone !  In  the  darkness  of  despair  she  thought  of  the  poor, 


APPARITIONS  253 

crazed  Japanese  woman  who  had  taken  matters  in  her  own 
hands  and  hanged  herself  by  a  belt  out  in  the  garage. 

Perhaps  the  story  of  ghosts  was  not  a  fabrication  of 
Oki's  scheming  mind.  Perhaps  the  Japanese  laborers  were 
right  in  leaving  a  place  which  some  evil  demon  had  marked 
with  his  everlasting  curse. 

iv 

Passed  then  a  ten  days  of  folded  hands  and  of  waiting. 
Waiting  for  what?  Not  any  help  from  Shimba  certainly, 
for  the  crisis  seemed  to  have  driven  him  into  a  state  of 
gentle  idiocy.  Every  morning  he  would  crank  up  his  short- 
nosed  car  and  go  rattling  away  with  the  cheerful  announce 
ment,  "I  know  prenty  good  Japanese  boy  somewhere." 

Shimba's  somewhere  was  a  land  of  empty  dreams  appar 
ently,  for  he  always  returned  about  nightfall  to  back  his 
tinny  car  into  the  shed  behind  his  hut. 

"To-morrer,"  he  would  grin,  "I  go  fetch  boy  somewhere 
else." 

Into  the  somewhere  his  picture  bride  seemed  to  have  been 
swallowed.  Anna  was  far  too  miserable  to  inquire  about 
this  latest  disappearance.  As  days  went  on  she  ceased  to 
care  about  her  rotting  harvest;  ceased  to  care  much  as  a 
marooned  sailor  ceases  to  care  for  food.  Sometimes  she 
would  wander  through  the  orchard  to  look  with  lackluster 
eyes  at  the  fruit  which  lay  in  piles,  black  and  sodden. 
Flocks  of  birds  came  out  of  the  sky  to  feast  upon  her  loss. 

Occasionally  she  would  wake  to  the  horror  and  ask  the 
empty  air — the  air  which  sent  her  only  predatory  fowl — 
"Isn't  there  anything  to  be  done  ?" 

Poor  Zudie!  With  what  patient  endurance  she  worked 
to  fill  the  breach !  For  hours  she  would  stand  at  the  tele 
phone,  pleading  with  employment  agencies  in  Stockton  and 
Sacramento*.  Every  day  she  would  take  to  the  road,  Henry 
Johnson  sitting  languidly  at  the  wheel,  to  search  in  person 
among  the  jungles  where  that  shy  bird,  labor,  might  be  in 


254  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

hiding.  She  would  come  home  at  night  and  try  to  convert 
her  failures  into  the  form  of  comic  anecdotes,  telling  how 
Henry,  acting  as  her  envoy,  had  visited  Japanese  boarding 
houses  with  his  highfaluting  pleas. 

Once  she  came  triumphantly  back  with  two  dusty  speci 
mens  of  the  Caucasian  race.  They  were  blear-eyed  brig 
ands  of  the  species  known  as  "fruit  bums."  Like  unclean 
birds,  they  were  wont  to  follow  the  harvest  season  from 
Imperial  Valley  to  Napa  Valley  with  the  single  object — to 
make  the  maximum  wage  with  the  minimum  service. 
These  two  specimens  were,  of  course,  Industrial  Workers 
of  the  World. 

To  demonstrate  their  independence  they  spent  a  pleasant 
afternoon  on  the  Ely  farm,  sleeping  most  of  the  time.  At 
sunset  they  went  on  strike  and  demanded  five  dollars  apiece, 
a  full  day's  pay.  Anna  paid  the  bribe  to  get  rid  of  them, 
because  they  were  dangerous  men,  with  cruel,  weak  and 
criminal  faces.  Then  again  the  calm  of  despair  settled  upon 
her  acres. 

The  morning  after  their  quarrel,  Zudie  had  come  to  her 
sister  to  apologize  and  be  very  sweet.  Anna  had  been 
sweet,  too,  but  she  hadn't  really  cared.  Nothing  seemed 
to  matter  now. 

Shimba  contributed  his  share  by  developing  a  weakness 
hitherto  unsuspected.  He  had  taken  to  bootlegger  whisky. 
In  the  evening,  after  he  had  put  away  his  flivver,  he  would 
wander  through  the  orchards,  a  dizzy  smile  on  his  unbeau- 
tiful  face  as  he  sang  his  native  war  songs  or  debated  aloud 
with  himself.  One  evening  at  dusk  Anna  found  him  alone, 
giggling  emptily  and  clasping  his  horny  hands  as  if  in  self- 
congratulation. 

"Rotten !"  he  chanted,  pointing  dramatically  at  the  wreck 
of  the  fruit  harvest. 

This  brief  comment  proved  more  than  she  could  bear. 
She  ordered  him  off  the  place,  commanded  him  to  do  some 
thing,  to  bring  her  help  or  drown  himself.  Shimba  took 


APPARITIONS  255 

it  all  with  a  beatific  smile,  and  shambled  away  to  the  tune 
less  tune  of  his  native  chant. 

That  was  the  worst  night  of  all  for  Anna  Ely.  The  pain, 
which  never  left  her  eyes,  was  growing  insufferable.  Fig 
ures  and  events  were  all  awry  in  her  poor  head.  She 
scolded  Kipps  harshly,  unreasonably,  and  failed  to  under 
stand  what  Zudie  was  saying  to  her.  She  refused  her  sup 
per,  and  when  the  moon  rose  among  the  drifting  clouds  she 
went  again  to  wander  through  her  mocking  acres.  The 
smell  of  rotting  fruit  sickened  her,  yet  she  walked  through 
it  with  a  morbid  stubbornness.  Too  late  to  do  anything 
now !  Or  was  it  ?  Half  a  harvest  still  clung  to  the  abomi 
nable  branches.  She  could  see  the  heavy  fruit  gleaming 
mockingly  under  the  moon. 

What  was  that?  Something  stirred  just  beyond  her. 
Among  the  trunks  she  could  see  a  white  skirt  flutter,  pause 
and  flutter  again.  Could  it  be  ?  Had  the  maddened  woman 
who  had  done  herself  to  death 

Anna  stood  stricken,  still  as  any  trunk  among  the  orchard 
rows. 

"Anna!"  she  heard  the  call,  and  it  was  a  frozen  minute 
before  she  recognized  her  sister's  voice. 

"Anna,  my  dear,"  cried  Zudie,  coming  into  full  moon 
light,  "you  shouldn't  be  out  this  way  with  nothing  round 
you.  It's  dreadfully  cold." 

"I'm  not  cold,"  said  Anna  impatiently. 

Zudie  laid  a  hand  over  her  sister's  forehead,  then  almost 
dragged  her  into  the  house.  There  was  no  need  of  force, 
because  Anna  came  gently  enough.  Everything  seemed  to 
have  grown  suddenly  pleasant.  Then  she  would  think  of 
Mrs.  Shimba's  ghostly  form,  of  the  frightful  specter  hang 
ing  to  a  beam. 

"I  can't  settle  anything,"  she  kept  saying  over  and  over. 

"If  ye'd  only  listen  to  reason,  an'  not  go  tryin'  somethin' 
ye  can't  finish  ye'd  be  a  well  woman  the  now,"  Susan  Skel- 


256  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

ley  was  telling  her  out  of  the  confusion.  "Bed's  th'  place 
for  ye,  an'  there  ye  should  o'  been  these  manny  days." 

Anna  was  vaguely  aware  that  some  one  had  undressed 
her  and  that  she  was  lying  in  a  bed  of  fire,  working,  working 
to  make  something  out  of  the  puzzle.  Familiar  shapes  she 
recognized  now  and  then ;  she  seemed  to  be  looking  at  them 
through  a  bright  tube  which  shut  everything  else  out  of  her 
sight.  She  saw  Kipps  standing  at  the  end  of  the  tube,  his 
face  white  as  the  night  drawers  he  wore. 

"Moms,"  he  was  saying,  "you  just  stop  worrying!  I 
guess  we  can  fix  things  all  right." 

Then  he,  too,  faded  away. 

Out  of  jumbled  visions  of  Japanese  ghosts  and  heavy 
fruit  trays  and  Oki's  irritating  politeness  and  Dune  Leacy's 
roughly  soothing  laugh  she  woke  to  reason,  and  found  that 
a  shabby  little  man  with  an  abalone  watch  charm  was  hold 
ing  her  by  the  wrist. 

"How  long  has  she  been  this  way?"  he  was  asking  in 
that  sick-room  whisper  which  falls  like  a  pall  on  the  inva 
lid's  sense. 

"Since  ten  o'clock,"  Zudie's  cool  voice  was  responding. 

In  the  dim  light  Anna  could  read  the  dial  of  a  round- 
faced  clock  in  the  hall.  Half  past  four. 

"I'm  all  right,"  she  declared,  struggling  to  sit  up. 

"You  will  be,  Mrs.  Ely,"  smiled  the  shabby  man.  "But 
you'd  better  take  it  easy.  It's  a  hectic  time,  getting  in  the 
fruit  crop.  And  I  guess  these  labor  conditions " 

"We'll  settle  that  all  right !"  cut  in  Zudie  in  the  voice  of 
a  benevolent  liar  intent  upon  easing  the  sick  mind. 

"I'm  sorry  I  was  so  long,"  apologized  the  doctor.  "An 
other  obstetrical  case — Japanese." 

He  went  fumbling  among  his  instruments  to  bring  out  a 
small  nickel-plated  tube. 

"If  you'll  just  bring  me  a  teaspoon,"  he  said  to  Zudie, 
and  turning  to  Anna  asked,  "You  won't  object  to  a  quarter 
grain  of  morphia?" 


APPARITIONS  257 

"I  won't  object  to  anything,"  moaned  Anna,  turning  her 
tired  head  upon  the  pillow. 

After  the  needle  had  pricked  her  skin,  the  doctor  tiptoed 
over  to  the  light  and  turned  it  down.  Then  he  pulled  a 
chair  to  her  bedside  and  sat  stark  and  patient  in  the  semi- 
darkness.  His  spectral  appearance  made  her  nervous.  She 
wished  he  would  go.  Then  she  looked  into  his  kindly  Cau 
casian  features  and  felt  a  certain  comfort  in  the  white 
man's  presence.  A  delicious  softness  was  stealing  through 
her  veins. 


When  she  woke  hot  sunlight  showed  under  the  eastern 
window  shade.  Anna  lay  languid  and  relaxed.  She  was 
very  still,  wondering  a  little  that  her  worries  of  the  night 
should  have  passed  so  peacefully  away.  She  was  only  tired 
— too  tired  to  worry. 

Zudie  came  in  quietly,  and  from  beneath  half-closed  lids 
Anna  studied  the  face  she  loved.  Zudie  looked  very  pale 
and  more  solemn  than  she  had  ever  appeared  before.  Her 
eyes  were  rimmed  with  red.  Had  she  been  crying? 

"Zudie,  come  here,"  said  Anna,  putting  out  her  hand. 
"You're  not  worrying  about  me,  are  you?" 

"No,  dear,"  replied  Zudie.  "You  gave  me  rather  a  start 
last  night.  But  you're  a  lot  better,  aren't  you?" 

"I'm  perfectly  all  right.  You  look  so  beat  out.  You 
must  get  some  sleep." 

"Oh,  I'm  fit  as  a  fiddle.    It's  only " 

A  little  girl  in  a  calico  pinafore  appeared  at  the  door,  a 
patch  of  sticking  plaster  showing  under  her  blond  curls. 

"Good  morning,  Nan !"  cried  Anna.  "Aren't  you  coming 
in  to  kiss  your  moms  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  child,  but  she  stopped  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor. 

"You'd  better  run  away!"  commanded  Zudie,  a  curious 
concern  in  her  troubled  eyes. 


258  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"I  want  Kipps,"  declared  Nan,  her  hands  clasped  stub 
bornly  behind  her. 

"Kipps?" 

A  fearful  intuition  caused  Anna  to  sit  bolt  upright  in 
bed. 

"Zudie,  what's  the  matter?  What's  the  matter  with 
Kipps?" 

"Nothing,  dear.    Now  lie  down.    Kipps  is  all  right." 

"He's  not  all  right!"  declared  Nan,  beginning  to  sniffle. 
"He's  went  away.  Somebody's  took  him.  Last  night  he 
was  in  bed,  and  his  clothes  is  there,  and  he's  not  there." 

"Tell  me  the  truth,"  demanded  Anna  in  a  soft  and  ter 
rible  tone. 

"He's  gone/'  began  Zudie. 

"Gone?" 

Zudie  spoke  in  the  dry  voice  which  we  use  when  the 
worst  must  be  told. 

"Susan's  been  out  hunting  for  him  since  dawn — she 
found  his  bed  empty.  I  can't  think  it's  serious — oh,  Anna !" 

"And  you've  let  me  lie  here !"  raved  the  mother,  leaping 
out  of  bed.  "Why  haven't  you  told  me?" 

"How  could  I?    Anna,  dear,  please " 

But  Anna  Ely  was  beyond  reasoning  with.  She  stood 
there  in  her  night  clothes,  her  hair  disheveled  and  in  her 
eyes  as  wild  a  look  as  ever  came  from  the  old  fox  woman 
of  the  orchards. 

"He  might  come  back  any  time,"  Zudie's  brave  voice  was 
repeating  through  the  evil  enchantment. 

"Yes,  he  might  come  back,"  echoed  Anna's  white  lips. 

There  came  into  her  troubled  soul  a  bitter  voice  to  say, 
"Nothing  that  is  lost  comes  back !"  And  Anna  had  lost  so 
much. 

"You  say  he's  gone?"  she  repeated  the  stupid  question. 
"Of  course,  there's  some  mistake." 

"Yes,  dear,"  Zudie's  soothing  voice  came  to  her.  "Get 
back  into  bed,  please.  We'll  bring  him  to  you." 


APPARITIONS  259 

Susan  Skelley  came  in  at  that  instant,  and  the  sick 
woman's  brain  confused  her  appearance  with  a  terrific 
racket  like  the  grinding  of  machinery  and  the  blowing  of 
horns. 

"Look  out  o'  the  winda,  wud  ye!"  she  demanded.  "An' 
ef  ye'll  tell  what's  there  I'll  eat  ut." 

Zudie  was  the  first  to  look.  No  sooner  had  she  torn 
aside  the  curtains  than  she  screamed  aloud. 

"Anna,  look!  Darling — it's  all  right!  See  what  he's 
brought !" 

Anna  now  realized  that  the  mechanical  roaring  had  come 
from  the  driveway  outside.  Leaning  feebly  against  the 
window  ledge,  she  beheld  a  spectacle  stranger  than  any  that 
her  fever  dreams  had  summoned. 

A  long  procession  was  coming  slowly  down  the  orchard 
road.  To  the  fore  an  automobile  made  its  dignified  prog 
ress  toward  the  house.  Following  close  behind  came  a 
heavy  service  truck,  its  body  brimming  over  with  sooty- 
faced,  turbaned  little  men. 

Directly  below  the  bedroom  window  the  automobile  came 
to  a  halt.  Who  was  that  all  brilliant  in  the  purity  of  night 
drawers  who,  held  aloft  by  strong  arms,  waved  frantically 
in  the  morning  sun? 

"Kipps !" 

Anna  threw  open  the  window  and  screamed  his  name. 

"Mother !"  the  runaway  bawled  out.  "I  told  you  I  would 
—I've  fetched  'em,  mother!" 

Then  it  was  that  Anna  got  sight  of  the  strong  man  who 
was  holding  Kipps  at  arm's  length.  Dune  Leacy  sat  there 
blushing  like  an  American  Beauty  rose. 


CHAPTER  XXHI:   THE  GIRL  FROM  OROVILLE 


AS  Kipps  had  said,  what  the  place  needed  was  a  he-man. 
And  during  the  first  days  of  Anna's  convalescence  the 
he-man  was  there  much  of  the  time,  and  his  influence  al 
ways.  She  felt  his  strength  in  the  busy  harvest  scene  out 
side,  for  the  mysterious  little  Hindus  labored  tirelessly,  as 
if  galvanized  by  Leacy's  power,  seen  or  unseen. 

The  doctor  had  told  her  not  to  worry,  and  she  was  too 
languid  to  contemplate  her  troubles  with  any  degree  of  zest. 
It  was  a  luxury  to  be  taken  care  of.  To-morrow  she  might 
reckon  the  costs,  but  to-day  was  for  rest. 

Leacy  came  almost  every  day,  but  his  appearances  were 
usually  businesslike.  He  no  longer  joked  about  the  an 
tiquity  of  her  prune-dipping  apparatus.  Instead  he  made 
the  crude  contrivance  his  serious  concern.  From  her  ham 
mock  couch  on  the  veranda  she  would  watch  his  active  fig 
ure  as  he  stood  on  the  platform  bossing  the  lye  kettle. 
Sometimes  his  heroic  pose  would  remind  her  of  Sydney 
Carton  about  to  face  the  cruel  kiss  of  Madame  Guillotine. 

"It  is  a  far,  far  better  thing  that  I  do,"  he  might  have 
been  saying ;  but  his  words  were  actually  less  dramatic  and 
more  he-mannish  than  that. 

He  knew  every  Hindu  by  name ;  more  than  that,  he  knew 
every  dark  spot  on  every  Hindu's  ancestry.  He  was  never 
wasteful  with  his  oaths,  but  when  they  came  they  hit  true 
to  the  mark.  He  handled  the  little  sooty  men  with  a  rough 
good  humor,  and  they  seemed  to  adore  him.  Prunes  flew 
from  orchard  to  kettle,  from  kettle  to  drying  ground. 

"Moms,"  said  Kipps,  breathless  with  admiration,  "Dune 

260 


THE  GIRL  FROM  OROVILLE  261 

can  get  work  out  of  anything.  He  even  makes  Henry  John 
son  come  to  time." 

"Can  he  get  work  out  of  you?"  asked  Anna. 

"Me?"  Kipps'  eyes  shone  in  contemplation  of  his  idol. 
"Why,  moms,  he  can't  get  along  without  me.  He  says  so 
himself." 

Late  in  the  afternoon  Dune  Leacy  would  come  rather 
self-consciously  to  the  porch  and  sit  a  while  beside  the 
couch  hammock.  Though  their  talks  were  cheerful  and 
pleasant,  they  never  reached  the  note  of  that  radiant  after 
noon  when  Dune  had  made  his  preposterous  wager.  When 
she  tried  to  thank  him  for  the  generous  thing  he  had  done 
he  would  color  a  little  and  resort  to  "Oh,  pshaw !"  then  turn 
the  subject. 

Between  him  and  Kipps,  however,  she  managed  to  get  a 
fairly  accurate  account  of  what  had  brought  him  to  her 
rescue  as  miraculously  as  though  Aladdin  had  rubbed  his 
lamp  and  a  genie  had  appeared  out  of  thin  Arabian  air. 

"Kipps  had  Paul  Revere  beaten  at  the  first  turn,"  was 
the  way  Dune  expressed  it  when  he  related  that  call  in  the 
dead  of  night  which  had  summoned  him  from  sleep. 

Iron-shod  hoofs  had  been  heard  beating  the  road  up  to  the 
Leacy  house  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Dune  had 
poked  his  head  from  an  upper  window  to  behold  a  tiny 
white-clad  figure  mounted  on  an  ancient  brown  horse  whose 
shaggy  hide  gleamed  with  sweat  under  a  sinking  moon. 

"Hey  there,  Dune,"  a  treble  voice  had  shrilled,  "the  Japs 
are  on  a  strike !" 

"Whose  Japs?"  Dune  had  inquired,  rubbing  sleep  from 
his  eyes. 

"Mom's,"  the  small  voice  had  replied. 

Marietta  Leacy  was  away  on  a  visit  to  New  York,  there 
fore  Dune,  as  lord  of  bachelor's  hall,  had  received  his  un 
expected  guest  and  wrung  the  facts  from  him.  There  had 
been  no  workers  on  the  Brand  farm  for  more  than  a  week ; 
prunes  were  rotting,  the  year's  harvest  was  going  to  waste. 


262  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

Kipps'  mother  had  collapsed  under  the  strain.  Therefore 
the  boy  had  taken  matters  into  his  own  hands,  crawled  out 
of  bed  and  climbed  upon  Rodger's  bare  back. 

Dune  had  gone  forth  at  dawn  to  parley  with  his  Hindus. 
A  gang  of  twenty  men  had  been  laid  off  the  night  before, 
so  the  case  had  proved  comparatively  simple. 

"I'll  never  forget  it,"  said  Anna  when  Dune,  sitting  stiffly 
beside  the  box  hammock,  explained  it  all. 

"Pshaw !"  said  Dune.  He  flushed  again,  then  added  the 
uneasy  assurance.  "I  wouldn't  see  a  neighbor  get  in  wrong 
like  that!" 

What  was  happening  in  Dune  Leacy's  heart?  Fight  it 
away  as  she  might,  the  question  constantly  recurred. 

Anna  had  few  callers  during  her  weeks  of  invalidism. 
Shimba  came  once  or  twice  when  Zudie  relaxed  her  vigi 
lance,  and  it  was  plain  that  the  unsuccessful  manager  was 
far  from  pleased  with  Dune's  solution  of  the  labor  problem. 

"Those  Hindu  very  bad  boy !"  he  complained. 

"They're  better  than  nobody,  aren't  they?"  asked  Anna, 
giving  way  to  her  irritation  in  defiance  of  doctor's  orders. 

"Mebbe  yes.  Mebbe  no.  They  do  not  think  nice  with 
Japanese." 

"I  choose  to  have  them  here,"  declared  Anna,  thoroughly 
roused.  "This  is  my  farm,  and  half  the  crop  is  mine.  If 
you  can't  find  labor  to  pick  the  fruit  you've  got  to  be  sat 
isfied  with  the  men  I  bring  in." 

Black  coals  glared  spitefully  through  the  slits  in  Shim- 
ba's  mask. 

"Pretty  bad  job  from  those  Hindu  race,"  was  his  only 
defense  as  he  shambled  away. 


11 

Mrs.  Awaga,  the  preacher's  wife,  came  almost  every 
morning,  and  her  calls  were  never  unwelcome.  Of  all  her 
acquaintances  among  the  Japanese,  Anna  found  in  this  prim 


THE  GIRL  FROM  OROVILLE  263 

little  being  the  one  satisfactory  example.  She  was  a  Chris 
tian  woman,  without  any  display  of  piety  or  sirupy  cant. 
She  seemed  to  approach  life's  tangled  problems  with  a 
goodness  and  simplicity  almost  primitive  in  their  pure  faith. 

The  gilded  shadow  of  Buddhism  across  from  her  hus 
band's  shabby  church  never  ceased  to  trouble  her. 

"My  husband  say  I  am  jealous,"  she  remarked  in  one  of 
her  confidences.  "But  he,  too,  takes  it  much  inside  his 
heart.  I  often  search  myself  to  ask  if  it  is  jealousy.  Per 
haps  there  is  some  of  that  there.  But  the  thought  of  it  al 
ways  make  me  sad.  I  feel  that  there  is  great  wicked  power 
behind  that  Buddhist  temple  and  that  it  has  been  put  there 
to  mock. 

"My  husband  and  I" — in  nearly  every  breath  she  spoke 
adoringly  of  the  wee  man  in  the  frock  coat — "it  make  us  so 
happy  when  we  were  called  to  that  church." 

It  was  as  though  she  were  mentioning  St.  Thomas's  on 
Fifth  Avenue! 

"We  had  been  a  long  time  in  America,  working  in  mission 
schools.  My  husband  had  always  said  that  America  was 
best  ground  for  spreading  good  gospel.  Then  think  how 
pleased  we  get  when  we  came  to  this  church  in  this  midst 
of  such  a  large  community!  My  husband  says  that  Chris 
tianity  is  the  great  door  to  freedom  in  Japan.  Idolatry  is 
sickness  that  keep  us  apart  from  other  civilized  people.  So 
long  as  we  bow  down  to  idol — either  of  flesh  or  stone — we 
cannot  enter  the  house  of  democracy." 

"Who  is  your  idol  of  flesh?"  asked  Anna,  intrigued  by 
the  odd  phrase. 

"The  Mikado."  Mrs.  Awaga  lowered  her  voice  when 
she  said  it — did  she  bob  slightly,  or  was  that  a  fancy  on 
Anna's  part  ?  "And  our  idols  of  stone  are  his  ancestors. 

"There  are  many  bad  Christians  in  America,"  she  went 
on.  "But  your  spirit  is  Christian.  Japan's  soul  still  pagan. 
My  husband  wish  that  it  shall  be  changed.  So  we  saw  a 
great  chance  in  this  town  of  Bly.  Then  what  happen? 


264  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

The  Beneficent  Society  came  smiling  to  praise  us  and  ask 
that  we  should  teach  Japanese  to  the  children  in  order  that 
they  should  not  forget  mother  tongue.  That  Beneficent 
Society  select  all  textbooks.  They  are  Buddhist  and  Shinto 
textbooks,  explaining  the  divinity  of  our  Emperors.  We 
must  use  them  or  go  without  readers  for  our  school.  Then 
what  happens  next?" 

Mrs.  Awaga  swept  a  delicate  yellow  hand  toward  the 
golden  emblem  of  Buddha,  just  visible  above  the  prune 
trees. 

"But  Buddhism  and  Shinto  are  so  different,"  Anna  ob 
jected.  "The  one  teaches  a  sort  of  impersonal  Nirvana, 
the  other  sticks  to  materialism  and  ancestor  worship." 

"In  that  temple,"  declared  the  little  woman  solemnly, 
"you  behold — what  do  you  Americans  call  it  ? — camouflage. 
Shinto  stands  behind  the  lotus  flower.  Mikado  worship 
gets  back  behind  all.  And  so  you  see  my  husband's  congre- 
gation  going  across  the  street  so  that  they  see  plenty  gold 
when  they  pray." 

iii 

When  Marietta  Leacy  returned  from  the  East  she  has 
tened  to  the  Ely  farm  and  found  Anna  up  and  stirring. 
The  bluff  and  hearty  Marietta  was  full  as  ever  of  her 
brother's  business. 

"Dune's  getting  to  the  age  where  he  has  to  decide  a  great 
many  things,"  she  hinted  significantly.  "Of  course  bache 
lor's  hall  is  all  right,  but  Dune's  been  going  it  alone  too 
long." 

What  was  the  meaning  of  these  veiled  allusions?  In 
a  flash  Anna  saw  a  reason  for  her  asparagus  farmer's 
changed  attitude.  It  wasn't  entirely  because  he  hated  the 
Japanese  that  he  had  held  aloof  from  her. 

"I'd  like  to  tell  you  all  about  it,"  Marietta  went  on  in  a 
guarded  tone.  "Poor  Dune  takes  things  harder  than  you'd 


THE  GIRL  FROM  OROVILLE  265 

think.  But  I've  prodded  him  up  and  talked  to  him  as  man 
to  man,  and  I  believe  I've  got  him  to  the  point  where  he'll 
see  it  through." 

Anna  raised  her  eyebrows,  inviting  confidence.  But  that 
confidence  never  came.  Marietta  talked  gayly  on,  painting 
humorous  word  pictures  of  New  York's  accumulated  hor 
rors  and  marvels.  She  was  glad  to  be  back  on  the  island, 
she  declared,  and  if  Dune  took  it  into  his  head  to  turn  her 
out  at  this  late  date  she  would  build  herself  a  bungalow 
behind  the  house  and  stay  in  the  place  where  Nature  in 
tended  she  should  live. 

She  left  Anna  pondering  over  a  half-open  secret.  How 
had  Marietta  prodded  Dune  up,  and  in  whose  behalf? 
How  Anna  hoped  that  his  sister  had  picked  out  somebody 
good  enough  and  intelligent  enough  really  to  help  him !  Did 
she  wish  that  Dune  would  love  that  hypothetical  girl  in 
return?  Anna  was  too  much  of  a  woman  for  that. 

Had  she  cared  about  anything,  she  might  have  experi 
enced  relief  upon  the  day  when  Dune  Leacy  slouched  on 
the  porch  to  announce  that  the  picking  was  over  for  the 
season  and  his  Hindu  gang  had  gone  its  way.  The  threat 
ening  clouds  had  withdrawn  and  autumn  was  flooded  with 
sunshine. 

"You've  had  hard  luck,  I'll  say,"  admitted  Dune  that 
afternoon.  "But  there's  no  use  wasting  our  time  over  post 
mortems.  Farming,  as  I've  said,  is  a  worse  gamble  than 
Wall  Street.  You've  got  about  half  of  the  normal  crop 
dried  in  the  bins,  and  that's  something — good,  full  fruit. 
These  French  prunes  will  run  between  forty-fifty  and  fifty- 
sixty  to  the  pound.  Too  bad !  It  might  have  been  a  bum 
per  crop!" 

"I  owe  every  pound  of  it  to  you,"  she  assured  him 
faintly. 

"Pshaw!  Let's  forget  it  and  try  again  next  year.  And 
say,  Anna " 

He  was  sitting  in  his  favorite  place,  which  was  the  top 


266  'SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

step  of  the  porch,  and  he  shuffled  rather  awkwardly  before 
he  went  on: 

"Anna,  I've  had  myself  all  stirred  up  and  going  round 
lately.  Maybe  you've  noticed  it." 

"You've  seemed  to  be  a  little — a  little  abstracted,"  she 
admitted,  curiosity  battling  with  fear  of  what  he  might 
say. 

"It's  all  right  now,  Anna,"  he  admitted  with  a  sheepish 
grin.  "At  least  I  think  it  is.  I'll  know  in  a  few  days." 

"I'm  so  glad,"  she  said,  resolved  not  to  force  his  con 
fidence. 

"I'll  be  going  up  to  Oroville  pretty  soon,"  he  continued 
in  the  same  bashful  vein.  "I  think  I'll  have  news  for  you 
when  I  get  back." 

The  arrival  of  Zudie  and  Kipps  broke  the  thread,  and 
Anna  wondered  just  how  he  would  have  finished  it.  But 
he  had  told  her  plainly  enough,  and  if  she  needed  plainer 
telling  his  call  on  the  morrow  put  her  doubts  into  their 
final  resting  place. 

Dune  came  whirling  up  in  his  car,  and  Miss  Sallie  Bowen, 
the  black-eyed  little  beauty  from  Oroville,  occupied  the  seat 
beside  him.  She  looked  such  a  vivid  young  thing,  with  her 
black  hair  blowing  and  her  dark  eyes  snapping.  She 
glanced  up  and  smiled  her  triumph  even  before  his  car 
had  stopped  by  the  veranda.  How  remarkably  pretty  she 
was!  Beside  her  vitality  Anna  felt  herself  fading  to  a 
colorless  mist. 

Anna  studied  Miss  Bowen  as  she  seated  herself  in  the 
box  hammock,  her  look  never  far  away  from  Dune  Leacy. 
No,  she  wasn't  as  pretty  as  Zudie.  Or  perhaps  she  was 
prettier,  but  she  lacked  distinction.  She  reminded  Anna  of 
the  sweet,  obvious  faces  you  see  on  candy  boxes.  Her 
manner  was  proprietorial  whenever  she  spoke  of  Dune. 
She  imitated  his  slang,  criticized  his  table  manners,  gloried 
in  his  anecdotes,  while  Dune  sat  self-conscious  as  any  bride 
groom-elect  could  possibly  be. 


THE  GIRL  FROM  OROVILLE  267 

"We're  touring  to  Oroville  to-morrow,  aren't  we,  Dune?" 
She  gave  him  the  full  benefit  of  her  lovely  eyes. 

"We  sure  are !"  agreed  Dune  with  tremendous  heartiness. 
Then  he  explained  for  Anna's  information,  "I'm  looking 
over  the  irrigation  system  on  Mr.  Bowen's  place." 

"How  long  will  you  be  gone?"  asked  Anna,  and  could 
have  bitten  her  tongue  for  the  question.  But  she  had  grown 
so  to  depend  upon  Dune  Leacy ! 

"Oh,  a  week  will  settle  that  job,"  declared  Dune  with  a 
fearful  carelessness. 

They  shook  hands  at  the  edge  of  the  porch.  It  was  like 
bidding  good-by  to  a  honeymoon  pair. 

"I've  pulled  off  those  Hindus,"  he  sang  out  from  his  car. 
"I  guess  Kipps  can  handle  what  prunes  you'll  find  from 
now  on." 

Anna  stood  silently  and  watched  the  handsome  roadster 
spin  away.  She  wanted  Dune  to  have  every  good  thing 
in  the  world,  but  behind  her  wish  there  was  the  thought 
that  Marietta  had  not  chosen  with  all  the  wisdom  of  her 
years. 


CHAPTER  XXIV:  MR.  HELMHOLTZ  CALLS 


WHEN  Anna  stood  on  her  porch  saying  good-by  to 
Dune  Leacy  and  the  pretty  Miss  Bowen  she  resigned 
herself  to  the  thought  that  this  was  farewell.  Leacy  had 
left  her  in  his  debt,  and  she  was  sorry  for  that;  yet  she 
was  glad  that  she  had  known  him  and  that  the  memory  of 
his  generous  spirit  would  be  with  her  for  a  long  time. 

She  was  too  much  of  a  woman  not  to  feel  a  sting  of 
shame  that  she  had  permitted  herself  to  mistake  his  friend 
ship  for  something  that  it  was  not.  Had  she  been  smaller 
spirited  she  might  have  harbored  resentment  against  him 
for  the  emotions  he  had  roused,  to  destroy  at  whim.  After 
all,  the  kindness  had  been  all  on  his  side;  that  she  remem 
bered.  She  might  have  been  more  considerate  of  him  and 
his  prejudices.  She  realized  that  he  had  never  quite  for 
given  her  for  going  to  Tazumi's  dinner. 

Anna  would  not  admit  that  she  was  jealous  of  the  black- 
eyed  girl  from  Oroville.  It  was  quite  natural  that  Dune 
should  have  preferred  a  young  girl  and  a  Californian. 
Anna  pressed  her  lips  a  little  tighter  and  hoped  again  that 
they  would  be  happy  as  she  went  to  review  the  wreck  of 
her  poor  year. 

A  good  half  of  her  crop  had  been  saved.  This  had  been 
Dune's  estimate,  and  she  had  a  fear  that  it  had  been  too 
liberal. 

She  was  out  in  the  orchards  that  afternoon,  gazing  up 
at  a  few  prunes  which  still  clung  to  the  twigs  after  the 
trees  had  had  their  last  shaking.  She  was  wondering  why 

268 


MR.  HELMHOLTZ  CALLS  269 

these  scattered  treasures  could  not  be  profitably  harvested, 
dolefully  regarding  her  antiquated  machinery,  when  Kipps, 
impersonating  a  cavalry  officer  as  he  sat  astride  the  old 
brown  horse,  came  clattering  along  the  drive. 

"Say,  moms,"  he  shouted  as  he  brought  his  mount  to  a 
halt  and  slid  off  almost  at  her  feet,  "we  can't  do  a  thing 
with  that  junk,  can  we?" 

"Not  unless  you  can  think  of  something,  Kipps,"  she 
replied  with  a  wan  smile. 

"We're  a  bunch  of  amachewers,  that's  what  we  are,"  he 
decided.  "Dune  says  that  any  professional  can  beat  any 
amachewer  at  anything — just  look  at  politics!  Anyhow,  I 
think  something  ought  to  be  done  about  Aunt  Zude." 

"Aunt  Zude?"  Anna  was  startled  by  the  boy's  naive 
reflection  of  her  thoughts. 

"She  gets  my  goat,"  admitted  Kipps.  "She's  lost  all  her 
pep.  Every  time  I  say  anything  to  her  she  throws  a  duck 
fit,  and  I  don't  see  what  she's  crying  about  all  the  time. 
I'll  tell  you  what  it  is !" 

Under  other  circumstances  Anna  would  have  laughed  at 
his  inspired  expression. 

"I'll  bet  two  bits  she's  in  love!"  he  shouted  down  the 
orchard  rows. 

"Hush!"  Anna  warned  him.  "What  gives  you  that 
idea?" 

"Well,  she's  about  the  right  age,"  said  Kipps.  "And 
she's  got  all  the  symptoms — except  poetry.  I  think  Sid 
Footridge  or  somebody  ought  to  be  notified.  I'm  worried 
about  Aunt  Zude." 

"You'd  better  worry  about  things  you  can  understand," 
Anna  told  her  bad,  bad  boy.  "Did  you  go  to  the  post 
office?" 

"Sure,"  replied  Kipps,  nibbling  a  mildewed  prune. 

"Well,  didn't  you  bring  home  anything?" 

"Nothing  much.    Only  a  letter  from  Aunt  Julia." 

"Aunt  Julia?    How  did  you  know  that?" 


270  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"Easy!  She  makes  a  capital  B  so  you  can  tell  it  a  mil< 
off.  See  that  r 

Kipps  brought  out  the  conventional  envelope  to  demon 
strate  Aunt  Julia's  capital  B,  but  Anna  hastened  to  reac 
the  letter,  which  was  in  Aunt  Julia's  best  style : 

My  dearest  Anna:    Weeks  since  I  have  heard  from  you 
I  cannot  dare  to  think  what  may  have  happened  to  you  or 
to  the  children  or  to  my  darling,   headstrong  Judith  out 
there  in  the  wilds  among  godless  people. 

Why  do  you  never  write,  my  dear?  Is  there  anything 
you  are  afraid  to  tell  me?  My  nightly  prayer  is  for  you 
and  for  the  heedless  venture  upon  which  you  launched 
quite  against  my  advice  and  that  of  Baron  Tazumi.  I  do 
so  hope  you  have  taken  the  baron  into  your  confidence  and 
allowed  him  to  guide  your  steps.  He  is  a  man  of  sweet  and 
simple  life,  my  dear,  and  a  noble  example  of  a  race  which 
has  been  much  maligned. 

I  am  snatching  this  moment  from  my  work  with  the 
interchurch  movement  just  to  remind  you  of  my  existence. 
Anna,  dear,  don't  be  selfish.  Write  me  one  of  your  long, 
sweet  letters  and  tell  me  all  about  yourself.  And  if  evil 
has  befallen  you  or  yours,  remember  there  is  still  a  Chris 
tian  home  awaiting  you  here. 

Affectionately, 

JULIA  E.  STANNARD. 

A  letter  from  Aunt  Julia  had  usually  a  blighting  effect 
upon  Anna,  but  to-day  it  exerted  a  certain  stimulating 
influence.  Whatever  befell,  she  resolved,  she  should  never 
return  to  Aunt  Julia.  But  the  artless  impertinences  of 
Kipps  warned  her  plainly  that  something  must  be  done 
about  Zudie.  She  thought  with  a  little  bitterness  how  it 
had  been  her  sister's  fate,  as  well  as  hers,  to  drive  love 
from  the  doorstep.  Zudie,  she  knew,  was  spoiling  her  life 
for  the  lack  of  a  man  whom  she  could  have  by  the  saying 


MR.  HELMHOLTZ  CALLS  271 

of  a  word.  And  Anna  resolved  that  Zudie  should  say  the 
word. 

"Kipps,"  she  commanded  of  the  boy  who  stood  beside 
her  imperiling  his  digestion  with  damp  prunes,  "go  find 
Henry  Johnson  and  have  him  bring  out  the  car." 

"Can  I  go  too,  moms?"  begged  Kipps,  scenting  an 
expedition. 

"Not  this  time,  dear.  I've  something  to  do  that  won't 
interest  you." 

"Everything  interests  me,"  argued  the  young  student  of 
life,  but  he  went  just  the  same. 

Ten  minutes  later  Anna  was  rolling  away  toward  the 
nearest  telegraph  station.  She  wasted  little  time  over  the 
yellow  pad  when  she  reached  her  destination ;  just  a  minute 
in  which  to  scribble  off  a  hurried  message  to  Lieutenant 
Commander  Sidney  Footridge,  in  care  of  the  ship,  which, 
she  felt  sure,  was  still  anchored  in  San  Francisco  Bay. 

Now  the  message  she  sent  called  for  a  reply,  and  it  was 
in  dread  of  good  news  that  Anna  hovered  near  the  tele 
phone  all  that  evening.  She  knew  how  Zudie  would  behave, 
once  she  suspected  that  destiny  was  being  arranged  for  her. 
She  would  never  forgive  Anna  for  her  lack  of  pride  in 
sending  a  telegram  asking  Footridge  in  so  many  words  to 
come  and  make  his  peace. 

But  there  was  no  message  that  evening  or  the  next  day 
or  the  next.  In  vain  Anna  scanned  belated  copies  of  San 
Francisco  dailies  for  news  of  the  Pacific  Fleet.  Apparently 
it  had  already  gone ;  yet  she  was  puzzled  at  having  no  word 
from  the  telegraph  office,  where  she  had  given  instructions 
that  she  be  notified  if  the  message  were  not  delivered. 

ii 

The  unhappy  business  of  prunes  filled  her  morning  and 
took  her  thoughts  away  from  Zudie's  problem.  Mr.  Crane, 
the  buyer,  arrived  early  and  went  over  to  the  storage  shed 


SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

with  most  of  the  occupants  of  the  Ely  farm.  He  led  the 
procession  with  Anna;  Zudie  and  Kipps  followed;  Susan 
Skelley  straggled  in  the  rear,  and  Mr.  Shimba,  Esquire, 
appeared  as  by  magic  just  as  the  party  was  filing  into  the 
shed.  In  a  warm  corner  where  the  morning  sun  slanted 
through  a  cobwebby  window  Henry  Johnson  was  found 
asleep,  his  curious  face  relaxed  into  an  expression  of  per 
fect  peace.  A  little  green  book  lay  open  beside  him,  and 
when  Anna  picked  it  up  she  found  it  to  be  the  life  of  John 
Stuart  Mill — borrowed  from  her  library. 

"He  takes  it  easy,"  smiled  Mr.  Crane,  who  was  a  fatherly 
little  man  with  a  figure  that  suggested  a  ripe  melon  under 
his  waistcoat. 

His  remark  woke  the  dreaming  scholar,  who  scrambled 
to  his  feet  and — for  the  first  time  on  record — looked  a  trifle 
crestfallen. 

"I  have  found  my  corner  in  Sabina,"  he  informed  the 
impromptu  audience. 

"I  see  you  have,"  said  Anna  rather  icily  as  she  tucked 
the  borrowed  book  under  her  elbow. 

The  Eurasian  tramp  shuffled  away  and  permitted  the 
shipper's  comment:  "That's  a  pretty  good  example  of  the 
labor  we're  getting  nowadays." 

Mr.  Crane  passed  from  bin  to  bin,  picking  up  samples  of 
dried  fruit,  squeezing  them,  smelling  them  and  tossing  them 
back  again.  He  was  a  man  with  a  prune  sense  developed 
to  the  nth  power.  Blindfolded,  he  could  tell  a  forty-fifty 
from  a  fifty-sixty,  distinguish  between  a  French  prune,  an 
imperial  and  a  robe  de  sergent.  Without  referring  to 
visible  notes,  he  could  give  the  week's  quotations  on  the 
produce  exchange. 

"After  all,  it  doesn't  look  like  such  a  small  crop,"  vol 
unteered  Zudie,  her  voice  expressing  forced  optimism  as 
the  buyer  went  his  rounds.  "It  looks  like  enough  to  keep 
every  boarding  house  in  the  United  States  and  Canada  for 
a  thousand  years." 


MR.  HELMHOLTZ  CALLS  273 

The  amiable  Mr.  Crane  sampled  more  fruit,  smiled  hia 
fatherly  smile  and  passed  on  to  the  next  bin. 

"They're  Ai,  full,  heavy  prunes,"  Kipps  contributed  his. 
opinion.  "Dune  Leacy  says  so." 

"Well,  Dune  Leacy's  judgment  is  pretty  good,"  agreed 
Mr.  Crane  with  a  humorous  wink  at  Anna. 

He  thrust  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets  and  sauntered 
from  one  end  of  the  storehouse  to  the  other.  Shimba 
remained  by  the  door,  his  eyes  blinking  like  black  stars 
through  their  narrow  slits. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that  crop,  Shimba?"  asked  the 
shipper. 

"Pretty  few,"  grunted  Shimba.  "Prenty  more  few  than 
last  year." 

"I'll  say  you've  been  playing  in  hard  luck  this  time,  Mrs. 
Ely,"  decreed  Mr.  Crane,  facing  the  proprietress  of  the 
farm.  "You've  got  bully  good  fruit  there" — his  gesture 
indicating  the  contents  of  the  storehouse — "just  as  good 
as  can  be  raised  in  this  district.  Of  course  you  can't  raise 
the  Santa  Clara  grade  round  here.  But  it's  the  best  of 
its  kind.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you'd  have  put  away  a 
bumper  harvest  if  it  hadn't  been  for " 

"The  strike!"  Kipps  cheerfully  supplied  the  evil  word, 

"Between  God  and  man,"  said  Mr.  Crane  quite  seriously, 
"the  farmer's  getting  nothing  but  crow  to  pick  any  more." 

"I've  estimated" — Anna  spoke  in  her  most  business  like 
tone — "that  we've  gathered  about  half  the  normal  crop." 

"You're  figuring  a  little  high,"  replied  the  shipper.  "Last 
year  you  took  something  like  a  hundred  and  sixty  tons  off 
this  ranch — isn't  that  right,  Shimba?" 

"A  hunner  sixty- fo',"  amended  the  Japanese  farmer. 

"Of  course  I'm  not  any  automatic  weighing  machine,  but 
I  should  estimate  this  lot  at  something  less  than  sixty-five- 
tons.  Am  I  right,  Shimba?" 

"Yiss." 


274  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

The  black  eyes  glittered  restlessly.  If  they  expressed 
anything,  it  was  not  disappointment. 

"I'll  get  my  weighers  to  work  as  soon  as  they're  sacked," 
Mr.  Crane  promised  as  the  sad  little  procession  filed  out  of 
the  shed.  "Maybe  I'm  wrong.  I  certainly  hope  so." 

He  had  walked  silently  beside  Anna  as  far  as  the  porch 
before  he  said  in  a  voice  of  confidence :  "Mrs.  Ely,  there's 
something  more  than  plain  hard  luck  here,  I  shouldn't 
wonder." 

"You  mean " 

Anna's  significant  look  brought  a  responsive  nod  from 
Mr.  Crane. 

"What  did  the  Japs  say  they  were  striking  for  this  time  ?" 

"I  couldn't  get  anything  satisfactory  out  of  Shimba. 
Mr.  Oki  says  that  the  men  were  afraid  of  Mrs.  Shimba's 
ghost  out  in  the  garage." 

Crane  laughed  a  short,  dry  laugh. 

"That's  a  new  one!" 

"Shimba  claims  that  they  wouldn't  work  with  my  old- 
fashioned  dipping  apparatus." 

"And  he  couldn't  find  any  new  men  who  would  ?" 

"No.  He  was  away  every  day  after  the  strike,  searching 
the  labor  market." 

"He  did  most  of  his  searching  round  the  gambling  dens 
in  Lockport,"  replied  Mr.  Crane. 

"Do  you  think " 

"I  think  almost  anything,  Mrs.  Ely.  You  had  a  good 
farm  here,  and  something's  happened  to  turn  it  into  a  bad 
farm.  Now  I'll  leave  you  to  draw  your  own  conclusions." 

"If  Shimba  has  conspired  to  ruin  my  crop,"  declared 
Anna,  cold  with  rage,  "I'll  sue  him  for  every  cent  he's  got 
or  ever  will  have." 

"I  wish  you  luck.  I  don't  know  how  much  money  you've 
got  behind  you.  If  you're  a  rich  woman  and  don't  mind 
wasting  a  lot  of  your  time,  you  might  bring  suit  against  a 
Jap  and  recover  on  it." 


MR.  HELMHOLTZ  CALLS  275 

'Tve  made  all  sorts  of  improvements  here,"  said  Anna 
desperately.  "Why,  my  share  of  the  harvest  won't  begin  to 
make  up  for  what  I've  sunk  in  the  place !  I'm  in  debt  now." 

"I'm  sorry,  Mrs.  Ely,"  he  interrupted  her  as  he  held  out 
his  hand  to  say  good  afternoon.  "Under  such  circum 
stances  you  wouldn't  stand  much  show  in  a  lawsuit,  I'm 
afraid." 

That  afternoon  Anna  called  Shimba  to  the  house  and 
denounced  him  with  the  fury  of  tortured  nerves.  She 
accused  him  of  crookedness.  She  threatened  him  with  law 
suit,  imprisonment  and  exposure.  Shimba's  head  sank 
lower  and  lower  under  the  scourging  of  her  tone.  At  last 
he  fell  on  his  knees  and  beat  his  forehead  on  the  hall 
carpet. 

"You  kill  me!"  he  implored.  "You  make  me  dead  with 
knife!  You  think  wrong  for  your  good  servant!  There 
fore  kill  me!" 

"Get  up!"  she  commanded,  but  Shimba  remained  stub 
bornly  in  his  groveling  attitude. 

"I  have  made  myself  broke  by  one-half  sharing  in  your 
crop  this  year.  Laba  condition  so  expensive,  yet  I  pay  all 
bills.  Yet  prune  get  rotten.  Poor  Shimba  lose  prenty  cash. 
Yet  his  pretty  boss  call  crook  at  him  for  doing  so.  Make 
me  dead,  please !" 

"Haven't  you  worked  deliberately  to  ruin  my  crop?"  she 
accused  him. 

"Why  should  I  done  that?"  he  inquired,  one  pathetic 
eye  cocked  up  at  her  from  his  debased  position.  "Even  if  I 
did  not  make  loving  thoughts  at  you,  would  I  cut  up  my 
face  to  spite  my  head  ?  Answer  is  no !" 

"Get  up!"  she  repeated,  but  Shimba  crouched  lower  on 
the  hall  carpet. 

"I  expect  to  die  here,"  he  promised.  "What  else  I  do 
when  my  dear  boss  feel  mean  at  me?  I  am  bursted  finan 
cially.  Empty  rice  tub  resides  in  my  home.  My  nice  wife 
must  dishwash  in  Sacer-mento  restaurant  because  every- 


276  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

thing  bursted  from  rotten  crop.    Please  made  me  dead  with 
knife!" 

Anna  left  him  where  he  knelt  for  the  very  good  reason 
that  she  knew  of  no  way  to  make  him  go.  There  was 
nobody  on  the  farm  capable  of  removing  Shimba  by  force 
save  Henry  Johnson,  and  Henry,  she  suspected,  was  a 
pacifist. 

iii 

When  she  entered  the  house  an  hour  later  she  was 
relieved  to  find  that  Shimba  had  gone.  The  grotesque  earn 
estness  of  his  prayer  had  had  an  effect  upon  her.  Certainly 
if  his  motives  were  as  simple  as  he  had  made  them  seem, 
he  had  lost  more  than  she  out  of  the  sorry  venture. 

Was  it  a  coincidence  that  Mr.  Cyprian  Helmholtz's  car 
should  have  stopped  before  her  veranda  on  the  very  after 
noon  when  the  sum  of  Anna's  year  had  been  laid  before 
her?  He  was  just  as  red-eyed  and  India-rubber  pink  as 
before,  and  he  smoked  the  same  type  of  freckled  cigar  that 
had  sickened  her  upon  the  last  interview  with  him. 

"Well,"  he  beamed  cheerfully,  "made  a  pretty  rotten  go 
of  it,  what?  I  sympathize  with  you  though.  More  things 
can  happen  in  farming  than  in  the  circus  business.  But  I 
admire  your  pluck  just  the  same.  As  I  often  tell  my  wife, 
women  haven't  got  no  business  running  a  farm.  One  place 
for  the  man,  another  for  the  wife." 

Anna  endured  all  this  because  her  mind  was  settling  to 
a  decision. 

"I  don't  suppose  you've  cleared  a  cent  after  all  this  bang 
ing  round,  have  you?"  he  jeered. 

"When  you  count  the  improvements,  I  suppose  I'm  a 
little  behind,"  she  admitted.  "But  there  are  other  years, 
Mr.  Helmholtz." 

"Sure  there  are  other  years,"  he  conceded,  but  his  voice 
spelled  trouble  ahead.  "You've  put  in  a  new  pumping 
system,  I  see,  and  built  over  the  stables.  It's  a  nice  house 


MR.  HELMHOLTZ  CALLS  277 

you've  got  here — put  some  money  into  that,  didn't  you?" 

"A  little,"  she  confessed. 

"Well,  I'm  for  action.  What'll  you  take  for  the  farm 
just  as  she  stands  ?" 

"I  haven't  advertised  it  for  sale,"  she  said,  but  her  tone 
was  more  hesitant  than  it  had  been  upon  previous  declara 
tions. 

"My  offer  stands,"  he  informed  her  briskly.  "Thousand 
dollars  an  acre.  More  than  that,  I'll  make  a  concession  for 
your  improvements.  New  pumping  system,  alterations, 
decorations  on  the  house " 

Temptation  fell  over  her  like  a  sweet,  soft  cloud.  Even 
under  the  spell,  she  paused  to  think  of  the  man  who  might 
have  advised  her  what  to  do. 

"Who  are  your  customers?"  she  asked  faintly. 

"Now  that  would  be  telling,  wouldn't  it,  girlie?"  He 
winked  toward  the  uppermost  branches  of  the  prune  trees. 

"I've  got  to  know  before  I  part  with  this  property,"  she 
insisted. 

"Look  here — this  is  between  you  and  I,  see?  I  haven't 
got  no  customer.  I'm  taking  this  little  deal  over  on  my 
own — get  me?  I  don't  intend  the  Japs'll  hog  all  the  farms 
round  here.  I'm  not  a  rich  man,  understand,  but  I  can 
raise  the  dough  to  take  a  flyer  now  and  then.  I've  got  some 
of  my  wife's  money  to  invest,  and  I  want  to  put  it  where 
it'll  do  the  most  good.  There's  a  pear  orchard  at  Walnut 
Grove,  a  Tokay  vineyard  at  Lodi  and  this  farm.  Just  a 
case  of  choose  between  with  me." 

Helmholtz's  last  statement  put  a  new  color  into  the 
situation.  Vaguely  she  remembered  something  she  had 
promised  Dune  Leacy — Dune  Leacy,  who  should  be  no 
more  to  her  than  Cyprian  Helmholtz  himself.  The  farm 
had  come  to  mean  little  else  than  chains  and  slavery.  She 
knew  that  Helmholtz  would  drive  a  bargain,  but  in  her 
heart  she  was  eager  for  the  chance  to  sell  out  to  a  white 
man  and  be  free.  She  stood  there  pretending  hesitation. 


278  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"How  long  would  it  take  to  complete  the  transaction?" 
she  asked  him. 

Mr.  Helmholtz  held  his  freckled  cigar  between  two<  large 
gold  teeth  and  stood  a  while  in  thought. 

"How  long?"  He  gave  her  a  red-eyed  stare  and  re 
peated,  "How  long?  Well,  I'll  tell  you,  Mrs.  Bly.  I  been 
thinking  of  this  deal  quite  a  while.  I  even  went  over  to  the 
state  house  to  look  up  the  title.  That's  clean  as  a  whistle. 
Nothing  to  do  but  to  name  your  price  practically." 

"I  haven't  set  a  price,"  she  demurred,  fearful  lest  his 
wits  should  conquer  hers. 

"You've  heard  mine,"  he  snapped.  "It's  about  the  top 
o'  the  market,  the  way  things  stand.  You've  got  a  little 
under  forty  acres  in  full-bearing  trees.  You've  got  fifteen 
in  old  ones  that'll  have  to  be  taken  out.  That  strawberry 
patch  is  a  joke.  But  I'll  lump  the  entire  acreage  at  sixty 
thousand  and  allow  you  for  improvements." 

The  philanthropist  removed  his  cigar  just  an  instant  to 
beam  the  generosity  of  a  golden  heart. 

"I'll— I'll  have  to  talk  it  over  with  my  sister,"  Anna  tem 
porized. 

"Go  ahead!    How  long  will  that  take?" 

"Couldn't  I  let  you  know  some  time  this  evening?" 

"Sure!  I  tell  you  what  you'd  better  do.  Just  ring  me 
up  at  my  house,  will  you?  I'll  stay  home  all  evening. 
Better  decide  pretty  quick,  because  the  wife's  anxious  to 
invest,  and  she's  pretty  keen  about  that  Lodi  vineyard." 

Cyprian  Helmholtz  bounded  back  into  the  front  seat  of 
his  short-nosed  car. 

"Hear  from  you  to-night!"  he  cried  merrily,  not  taking 
the  trouble  to  remove  his  hat  as  the  car  shot  forward  to 
ward  Anna's  gate. 

She  stood  dazzled  in  the  dry  sunshine.  All  her  attention 
seemed  to  be  centered  on  that  gate,  which  she  had  had 
repaired  and  painted  during  the  progress  of  improving  her 
farm  into  bankruptcy.  It  glared  at  her  like  a  symbol  of 


MR.  HELMHOLTZ  CALLS  279 

vanity  and  bad  management.  How  she  longed  to  pass  out 
through  those  spotless  posts,  a  free  woman,  never  to  return ! 

It  was  an  unbeautiful  fall  day.  A  north  wind  had  baked 
the  ground  and  filled  the  valley  with  spectral  whirlwinds  of 
dust.  Dust  lay  upon  the  withering  orchards,  covered  the 
fences,  polluted  every  spear  of  grass.  And  on  the  bosom 
of  the  winds  Japanese  boys  in  the  village  were  flying  their 
batwinged,  barbaric  kites. 

A  large  kite,  more  violent  of  face  and  spiteful  of  move 
ment  than  the  others,  soared  over  the  Southern  Pacific 
sheds,  poised  high  above  the  Ely  orchards  and  began  to 
descend  with  the  idiotic,  aimless  motion  peculiar  to  a  kite 
which  has  lost  the  brain  that  lies  in  its  string. 

A  dust  whirl  took  it  up,  then  released  it,  to  come  lower 
and  lower  toward  the  Ely  house,  where  it  disappeared 
among  the  outhouses  somewhere  to  the  rear. 

A  moment  later  Kipps  and  Henry  Johnson  came  saunter 
ing  round  a  corner  of  the  house.  Kipps  was  carrying  the 
kite,  a  toy  similar  to  the  one  John  Matsu  had  flown.  Its 
body  was  purple,  its  demon  face  streaked  with  red,  and 
across  its  fan  were  printed  those  three  familiar  Japanese 
characters. 

"Henry,"  asked  Kipps  in  a  voice  that  all  could  hear,  "do 
you  understand  Japanese?" 

"I  claim  that  among  my  eleven  languages,"  admitted  the 
philosopher. 

"Well,  what  does  that  say — those  words  written  across 
the  kite?" 

"That  is  very  simple,"  replied  Henry  Johnson.  "It  says, 
f Nippon  ichif  " 

"What  does  that  mean,  Henry?" 

"Freely  translated,  it  might  mean,  'Japanese  Number  One 
quality.'  From  that  you  might  imagine  it  to  say,  'JaPan 
first !'  or,  a  little  more  forcefully,  'Japan  uber  dies!  " 


CHAPTER  XXV:    THE  SALE 


AT  the  thought  of  being  free,  of  being  rid  of  this  incu 
bus,  Anna  could  have  cried  her  joy  to  heaven.  Hers 
was  the  feeling  of  the  defeated  general  who — seeing  hope 
over — surrenders  his  sword  and  dreams  of  a  little  peace. 
Then  she  thought  of  what  Dune  Leacy  had  said  so  solemnly 
one  day  as  he  stood,  one  capable  foot  on  the  second  step 
of  her  porch :  "I'd  just  see  that  you  stuck  it  out !" 

How  could  she  stick  it  out?  What  business  of  his  was  it 
now? 

During  the  quiet  hour  after  the  children  had  been  put 
to  bed,  and  they  were  reading  in  the  pretty  sitting-room, 
Anna  took  the  matter  up  with  her  sister. 

"Zudie,  Fve  another  offer  for  the  farm." 

"Who?"    Zudie  looked  up  from  her  magazine. 

"Helmholtz.    A  thousand  an  acre." 

"That  isn't  another  offer  then,"  decreed  Zudie.  "He's 
mentioned  that  before." 

"But  he's  willing  to  reimburse  us  for  the  improvements." 

Zudie  sat  thinking.  Wind  and  sun  had  improved  her 
beauty,  though  her  eyes  were  a  little  sad  these  days. 

"Anna,"  she  said  at  last,  "I've  so  wanted  to  stick  it  out. 
It  seemed  to  be  a  solution  for  everything,  but  it's  just 
another  one  of  those  things  that  look  well  on  paper. 

"Of  course  we've  gone  at  it  like  a  pair  of  rank  amateurs, 
but  I  don't  think  it's  that  entirely.  Failure  seems  to  be  in 
the  air.  I  don't  mind  telling  you  now  that  I  felt  failure  the 
first  day  we  came  on  the  place.  It's  always  easy  to  pass 
the  blame  up  to  the  Japanese.  The  sort  of  white  people  who 

280 


THE  SALE  281 

don't  like  to  work  and  call  Hoover  an  Englishman  because 
the  pro-German  papers  say  so,  are  only  too  glad  to  put  the 
blame  for  their  own  shiftlessness  on  the  Japanese.  But 
rnder  all  that  there's  something — something " 

Zudie  paused,  struggling  for  a  definition. 

"Well,  there's  something  going  on,"  she  said,  "that  isn't 
wholesome  for  us.  You  can't  blame  the  Japanese  for  the 
bugs  that  ate  our  strawberries,  but  you  can  blame  them  for 
the  crates  that  were  refused  by  the  shippers.  They  seem 
friendly,  these  Japanese.  They  always  smile.  But  in  spite 
of  that  it's  plain  that  they  don't  want  us  in  the  district." 

"If  our  farm  is  worth  a  thousand  an  acre  to  Helmholtz, 
why  isn't  it  worth  as  much  to  us?"  asked  Anna. 

"That  I  can't  see,"  admitted  Zudie.  "But  it  has  been 
quite  plain  from  the  first  that  Helmholtz  wants  the  farm. 
Probably  it's  because  a  man  with  a  business  education  can 
put  things  through  where  we  can't." 

"We  could  never  find  white  men  to  work  the  farm," 
Anna  admitted  despairingly. 

"I've  searched  the  employment  bureaus  over,"  said  Zudie. 
"There  were  plenty  of  big  white  loafers  to  laugh  in  my 
face,  but  nobody  to  work.  I've  never  told  you  the  things 
I  went  through  in  Sacramento  and  Stockton,  begging  and 
imploring  white  men  to  work  at  any  price.  Right  in  the 
midst  of  the  harvest  season  great  muscular  louts  stood  with 
their  hands  in  their  pockets,  gathered  in  knots  to  talk  about 
a  world  revolution  and  to  insult  women  as  they  passed. 
Afternoon  performances  at  the  movie  houses  were  packed 
with  able-bodied  men.  Out  round  Lodi  the  I.  W.  W.  dele 
gates  were  nailing  up  signs  demanding  five  dollars  a  day 
for  an  eight-hour  day  and  seventy-five  cents  an  hour  for 
overtime.  Work  seems  to  have  gone  out  of  fashion. 
What's  happening  to  our  country,  Ann  ?" 

There  came  no  answer  to  the  question  over  which  many 
a  wiser  head  than  Zudie's  has  ached  in  vain. 

"If  it's  a  matter  of  principle "  faltered  Anna. 


282  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"If  we  were  rich  enough/*  Zudie  broke  in,  "we  might 
hold  on.  We  could  leave  the  farm  to  the  birds  and  the  bugs 
until  labor  sobered  up.  But  that  would  be  a  horrible  waste, 
too,  because  the  world  needs  food,  even  though  it  has  to 
pay  a  pawnbroker's  interest  for  it." 

"Shall  we  sell?"  Anna  looked  her  sister  guiltily  in  the 
face. 

"Sixty  thousand  dollars  is  a  lot  of  money,"  replied  Zudie, 
her  eyes  lowered. 

"Less  than  a  year  ago  I  preferred  the  farm,  and 
now " 

"We  could  go  to  Los  Angeles  and  build  bungalows  with 
the  money,"  said  Zudie.  "We  could  live  in  one  of  them 
and  rent  the  others.  Then  I  could  get  something  to  do." 

Anna,  from  her  place  on  the  davenport,  could  see  the 
despairing  look  in  her  sister's  eyes.  She  reached  out  a 
slender  arm  and  said,  "Come  here,  honey !" 

Obedient  as  a  little  girl,  Zudie  came  to  be  petted  and  com 
forted  by  the  only  mother  she  had  known  since  early 
childhood. 

"Zude,  you  sweet,  foolish  thing,"  said  Anna  softly  as 
she  stroked  the  aureole  of  honey-colored  hair,  "life  would 
be  simple  for  you  if  you'd  only  let  it  be.  For  just  a  word 
you  could  marry  and  be  happy." 

"No,"  protested  the  lips  tight  pressed  against  the  pro 
tecting  arm.  "I'd  never  leave  you,  Ann — even  if  I  wanted 
to." 

"But  you  want  to.    You  know  you  do." 

"Not  now,  dear.     I've  got  over  that.     Besides " 

Because  of  the  long  silence  Anna  prompted,  "Besides 
what,  Zude?" 

"I  saw  it  in  the  papers  yesterday.  His  squadron  sails  for 
the  Philippines  Friday." 

The  three-party  telephone  in  the  hall  trilled  twice — the 
call  of  decision! 

"I'll  go,"  said  Zudie,  coming  to  her  feet. 


THE  SALE  283 

Anna  heard  the  receiver  click  from  its  hook  and  a  few 
sharp  questions,  ending  in,  "Yes,  she's  here." 

"It's  Mr.  Helmholtz  asking  for  you,"  announced  Zudie 
when  she  came  back. 

In  her  advance  from  the  couch  to  the  telephone  Anna 
made  her  decision. 

"Have  you  been  thinking  it  over?"  asked  the  buzzing 
voice  from  afar. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Helmholtz." 

"Well,  what's  the  good  word?" 

"We've  decided  not  to  sell." 

"That's  good!    What's  the  idea?" 

"We're  asking  eleven  hundred  an  acre,  Mr.  Helmholtz." 

"You're  a  good  business  woman,  after  all.  I'll  say  so! 
And  just  to  show  that  I'm  a  sport  I'll  take  you  up  on  that." 

"You  mean  to  say " 

"It's  pretty  steep,  but  I  guess  I  can  stand  the  racket.  How 
about  improvements?" 

Anna  hesitated  and  heard  Zudie  prompting  from  the  hall 
door,  "Say  ten  thousand!" 

"We  have  put  in  something  over  ten  thousand  dollars, 
Mr.  Helmholtz,"  said  Anna. 

A  pause. 

"All  right.  That'll  be  seventy-six  thousand  in  all,"  came 
his  decisive  tone.  "Never  mind  about  the  deed.  I'll  have 
all  the  papers  drawn  up  early  in  the  morning." 

"Shall  I  call  at  your  office  ?"  asked  Anna,  her  voice  flut 
tering  slightly. 

"Oh,  never  mind.  I'll  blow  round  your  way  at  about  ten 
with  a  deed  and  a  notary  public  and  a  check  book.  Good 
night,  Mrs.  Ely." 

"Good  night." 

Anna  went  giddily  back  to  the  sitting-room.  The  first 
sight  to  greet  her  eyes  was  Zudie's  bright  head  buried  in 
her  arms  under  the  glare  of  the  table  lamp. 


284  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

ii 

All  this  happened  on  Tuesday  night.  Shortly  before  ten 
on  Wednesday  morning  Mr.  Cyprian  Helmholtz  stepped 
from  his  weather-beaten  roadster  to  the  Ely  porch.  He 
removed  neither  his  hat  nor  his  cigar  as — speaking  round 
the  corner  of  the  latter — he  explained  that  the  colorless 
human  being  at  his  side  was  Mr.  Crass,  a  notary  public, 
whom  he  had  brought  along  in  order  to  facilitate  matters. 

Mr.  Helmholtz  snapped  the  new-made  deed  out  of  his 
pocket,  scarcely  giving  the  seller  time  to  read  its  typewritten 
phrases.  It  was  plain  to  see  that  the  legal  transfer  was 
being  made  to  Cyprian  Helmholtz  and  Gloria  Helmholtz,  of 
Sacramento.  Lawyers'  English  had  always  bored  Anna, 
but  she  made  a  brave  show  at  taking  it  all  in.  Zudie  it  was 
who  studied  the  document  carefully  ere  affixing  her  signa 
ture  on  the  line  marked  "Witness,"  while  the  notary  in 
voked  divine  aid  in  the  tone  of  an  alarm  clock.  Susan 
Skelley's  wayward  scrawl  rambled  across  the  line  below. 
Then  the  seal  was  fixed,  golden  wafers  licked  and  every 
thing  done  according  to  that  spirit  of  Hoyle  that  haunts 
the  state  supreme  court. 

"And  now,"  said  Mr.  Helmholtz,  slapping  the  marbled 
covers  of  his  check  book  on  Anna's  desk  with  a  briskness 
suggesting  finality,  "the  amount's  seventy-six  thousand. 
Right?" 

Nobody  denied  the  correctness  of  the  figures  set  flourish 
ingly  upon  the  slip  of  paper  which  he  tore  from  its  per 
forations  and  handed  over  to  Anna  Ely.  The  check  was 
drawn  on  the  Nippon  Bank  of  Sacramento.  Anna  was  too 
excited  to  see  any  significance  in  this — her  only  feeling  was 
one  of  gladness.  She  felt  weak  and  vague,  much  as  she  had 
on  that  fearful  evening  when  Zudie  had  called  her  out  of 
the  orchards. 

Helmholtz  seemed  to  think  a  little  speech  necessary  upon 
the  conclusion  of  this  stroke  of  business.  He  took  his 


THE  SALE  285 

cigar  out  of  his  mouth  and  said  in  a  tone  which  approached 
politeness :  "You  sure  have  made  a  good  deal,  Mrs.  Ely. 
It'll  be  a  long  time  before  you'll  find  customers  like  me  and 
the  wife,  ready  to  waive  everything  and  pay  a  gilt-edge 
price,  hands  down,  no  questions  asked.  But  that's  the  way 
I  like  to  do  business." 

"Quick  sales  and  small  profits  our  motto/'  Zudie  came  in 
with  something  of  her  old-time  sarcasm. 

"You've  got  it,  young  lady,"  agreed  Helmholtz.  "Take 
your  time  about  vacating.  I'm  in  no  hurry,  and  the  wife 
ain't  either." 

"We'll  be  out  in  a  week,"  cried  Anna,  glorying  at  the 
thought  of  quick  release. 

"You  are  prompt,  I'll  say !  And  you  put  up  a  game  fight 
here,  ladies.  Of  course,  farming  ain't  no  business  for 
Easterners  to  try — especially  city  folks.  But  you  did  give 
'em  a  run  for  their  money.  Well,  happy  days,  ladies !" 

He  had  scarcely  taken  his  deed  and  his  notary  away 
with  him  when  Anna  hurried  to  her  room  and  began  chang 
ing  her  clothes. 

"I  can't  believe  it!"  said  Zudie,  who  had  followed  her 
upstairs.  "Seventy-six  thousand  dollars!  Ann,  we're 
rich!" 

"I'm  going  to  Sacramento,"  declared  Anna  out  of  her 
trancelike  state.  "I  want  to  get  his  check  in  the  bank  as 
soon  as  I  can." 

"Moms,  can't  I  go  too?"  was  Kipps'  plea,  according  to 
custom,  as  she  went  down  toward  the  car. 

"No,  dear.  You  stay  home  and  help  Zudie  with  the 
packing." 

"What's  the  idea?"  he  was  calling  after  her  as  Henry 
Johnson  shifted  the  gears  and  started  the  car. 

Every  mile  of  her  speed-defying  drive  to  Sacramento — 
Henry  had  been  ordered  to  spare  no  gasoline,  and  he  was 
capable  of  brilliant  achievements  under  pressure — Anna 
could  feel  the  precious  scrap  of  paper  crackling  in  her  hand 


286  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

bag.  Freedom  from  worry,  new  life,  a  start  all  over  again ! 
Kipps  could  be  sent  to  school  in  some  town  where  the  con 
ditions  were  suitable.  Nan  could  have  children  of  her  own 
kind  to  play  with.  But  where  ? 

For  a  few  miles  of  that  reckless  drive  Anna  reflected  on 
the  last  pious  letter  from  Aunt  Julia.  After  all,  with  a  little 
income  of  her  own  Anna  would  occupy  a  less  humiliating 
position  than  she  had  heretofore  in  the  Stannard  house 
hold.  But  what  about  Zudie  ?  New  York  under  the  former 
conditions  would  be  just  as  dangerous  for  her  as  it  had 
been  on  that  wintry  night  when  they  made  their  bold 
decision. 

Seventy-six  thousand  dollars!  In  that  magic  number 
there  lay  some  solution  to  her  problem.  Possibly  Zudie's 
plan  for  the  purchase  of  Los  Angeles  real  estate  would 
prove  the  practical  solution. 

As  her  car  rolled  silently  into  the  suburbs  of  the  state 
capital  Anna  had  about  decided  against  a  dreary  future  in 
Aunt  Julia's  religious  home.  The  possibility  of  another 
failure  in  Los  Angeles  plagued  her  a  little.  Then  again 
she  felt  the  crinkling  paper  in  her  hand  bag.  Seventy-six 
thousand. 

iii 

When  Henry  slowed  down  before  the  glassy  front  of  her 
bank  she  was  almost  hysterical  with  fear  lest  the  receiving 
teller  would  refuse  Helmholtz's  check  for  one  perverse  rea 
son  or  another. 

But  the  man  at  the  window,  expert  in  the  teller's  arts, 
examined  the  signature  with  the  noncommittal  eye  of  a 
hardened  poker  player.  He  scribbled  the  sum  in  her  pass 
book  and  handed  it  back  with  an  amiable  comment  on  the 
weather.  That  was  finished! 

Anna,  who  had  been  living  on  her  nerves  these  last  few 
days,  had  no  sooner  taken  the  pass  book  in  her  hand  than 


THE  SALE  287 

she  realized  how  weak  she  was.  Susan  Skelley's  sour 
warning,  "Bed's  the  place  for  ye,"  was  ringing  in  her  ears. 
The  California  sunlight,  beating  through  the  windows  into 
the  glassy  room,  affected  her  with  nausea.  She  had  scarcely 
strength  to  weave  her  way  through  the  crowd  of  farmers 
and  to  the  door;  and  there  she  was  stopped  by  a  big  man 
in  a  new  blue  suit.  He  came  swinging  in  and  all  but 
knocked  her  down  in  his  blithe  haste  toward  the  teller's 
window. 

"Anna !" 

She  glanced  up  and  beheld  Dune  Leacy  looking  very 
handsome  and  urban  in  his  citified  clothes.  A  childish  re 
sentment  overcame  her  with  the  thought  that  he  had  never 
dressed  like  that  for  her.  The  room  was  swimming  round, 
but  even  then  she  could  read  in  his  eyes  a  warmth  and  an 
enthusiasm  she  had  not  seen  there  these  many  weeks. 

"Anna,"  he  persisted,  taking  her  by  an  arm,  "you're  all 
in!" 

"I — I  didn't  know  you'd  come  back,"  she  told  him 
weakly,  and  leaned  against  a  rack  of  counter  checks  to 
save  her  uncertain  knees. 

"Just  about  an  hour  ago,"  he  told  her  in  his  changed, 
happy  voice.  "I've  brought  back  some  bully  news,  Anna." 

"Let's  sit  down,"  she  implored,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

He  led  her  to  a  yellow  oak  bench  by  the  wall,  and  as 
soon  as  he  was  seated  beside  her  he  demanded,  "Anna,  what 
have  you  been  doing  to  yourself?" 

"Nothing,  Dune.    I've  come  in  on  business,  and  I — I " 

"Can't  Susan  Skelley  or  Zudie  or  Kipps  make  you  stay 
in  bed?  I  no  sooner  get  off  the  ranch  than  you're  up  and 
doing  something  foolish." 

His  scolding  words  were  expressed  in  a  tone  so  com 
forting  that  Anna  had  a  feeling  of  being  lifted  out  of 
danger  under  his  strong  protection.  In  that  happy  instant 
she  was  unable  to  believe  that  this  man  upon  whom  she 


288  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

had  learned  to  lean  had  gone  forever  out  of  her  life — 
that  he  had  stolen  this  moment  for  her. 

"I've  jumped  over  the  rope,"  he  was  telling  her  in  his 
happy  tone.  "It  was  a  grind,  I  tell  you,  but  I'm  through. 
And  you'll  congratulate  me,  won't  you,  Anna?" 

She  closed  her  eyes.  Try  as  she  would  she  couldn't  con 
gratulate  him. 

"Anna,"  he  implored,  "let  me  take  you  home.  You 
oughtn't  to  be  batting  round  this  way." 

"I'll  be  all  right  in  a  minute,"  she  told  him.  "I've  had 
rather  a  hard  week  settling  things  up." 

"Why  didn't  you  wait  for  me  to  get  back?"  he  asked. 
"You  don't  know  anything  about  prunes." 

"It  wasn't  prunes,"  she  said  suddenly,  disobeying  her 
intuition.  "Dune,  I've  sold  the  farm." 

"Sold  it!" 

She  saw  his  jaw  drop  and  his  capable  hand  grasping  an 
arm  of  the  bench. 

"Sold  it!    When  the  deuce  did  you  do  that?" 

"This  morning.  He  wanted  to  close  right  away — he 
wouldn't  wait — he  brought  the  deed  right  over — I've — I've 
just  deposited  his  check." 

"Whose  check?" 

The  hardness  that  had  come  into  his  voice  worked  like 
a  stimulant  upon  her  tired  senses.  Her  faintness  passed 
away  and  she  answered  in  a  tone  as  cold  as  his,  "Helm- 
holtz." 

"I  see."  Leacy's  body  relaxed  and  his  hands  fell  to  his 
knees.  "I  see.  So  you  did  sell  out  to  the  Japs,  after  all." 

She  sat  silently  trying  to  meet  his  stare.  What  was  he 
implying  now? 

"Dune,  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  she  told  him,  her 
anger  rising  to  meet  his.  "It  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
Japanese.  The  deed  was  made  out  to  Helmholtz  and  his 
wife." 


THE  SALE  289 

"Oh,  yes!"  He  gave  a  miserable  chuckle  before  the 
puzzling  comment:  "Helmholtz  is  building  an  empire.'* 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  there's  been  some  trick?"  she  fal 
tered. 

"Some  trick!  What's  the  use  of  explaining,  now  that 
it's  too  late?" 

"Dune,  I  don't  like  the  way  you're  talking  to  me.  You've 
got  to  tell  me " 

"Well  then,  you  have  transferred  your  farm  to  Cyprian 
Helmholtz.  Helmholtz — to-day  or  to-morrow  or  next  week 
— will  transfer  it  to  some  nice  little  Japanese  child  born  in 
California.  The  Natural  Energy  Fruit  and  Land  Company 
has  furnished  the  very  dollars  that  Helmholtz  wrote  out  to 
you  on  his  check/' 

"Do  you  really  mean  that,  Dune?"  she  asked,  feeling  a 
new  alarm. 

"I  mean  it  as  nearly  as  I  can  mean  anything  I  don't  know. 
I  believe — and  there  are  plenty  to  agree  with  me — that  K. 
Sato,  head  of  the  Natural  Energy,  'represents'  the  Im 
perial  Japanese  Government  in  America.  You've  handed 
your  farm  over  to  the  Mikado,  so  that  there  won't  be  any 
more  white  spots  in  the  yellow  belt  that  Japan  has  founded, 
stocked  and  managed  in  the  Sacramento  Valley.  But,"  he 
added  with  a  dry  laugh,  "I  don't  suppose  one  of  us  could 
prove  it." 

Anna  looked  away  from  him — looked  through  the  win 
dow  into  the  glaring  streets  of  Sacramento.  She  hoped 
that  Dune  Leacy  would  leave  her  to  her  tortured  thoughts, 
but  when  she  glanced  round  he  was  still  there,  gazing  at 
her  with  eyes  that  showed  nothing  more  than  pity. 

"You  didn't  know  what  you  did,"  he  said.  "That's  the 
way  they've  caught  so  many." 

"I  knew  exactly  what  I  did,"  she  replied  coming  angrily 
to  her  feet. 

"I'm  sorry  I  pulled  that  rough  stuff,"  he  apologized. 
"You  see,  I  just  got  my  own  money  this  morning,  and  I  was 


290  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

starting  for  your  farm  with  the  idea  of  making  a  buying 
proposition  of  my  own." 

She  left  him  standing  there  and  hurried  through  the 
open  door  toward  her  little  car  at  the  curb. 


CHAPTER  XXVI:  THE  HEAVENS  REPLY 


EARLY  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  the  Brand 
sisters  were  busy  about  the  house  in  the  first  scattered 
preparations  for  departure  when  a  marvel  appeared  in  the 
sky.  It  was  such  a  miracle  as — even  so  recently  as  fifteen 
years  ago — would  have  caused  towns  to  vomit  forth  their 
inhabitants  and  simple  folk  to  fall  in  prayer  upon  their 
knees. 

But  the  year  1920,  being  sated  with  miracles,  scarcely 
looks  up  at  the  vision  of  great  ribbed  wings,  scarcely 
remarks  upon  a  dragon's  roar  filling  the  vaulted  blue.  And 
so  it  was  in  Bly.  A  mechanical  bird,  mighty  as  the  fabled 
roc,  passed  overhead;  and  the  folk  of  a  race  which,  less 
than  three  score  and  ten  years  ago,  had  bowed  down  before 
Perry's  black  ships  because  they  advanced  into  their  harbor 
without  sails,  now  went  about  their  business  from  grocery 
to  garage,  from  garage  to  Buddhist  temple. 

Just  another  aeroplane — Japan  had  as  good,  and  plenty 
of  them. 

But  this  aeroplane  was  peculiar  in  its  behavior;  that 
much  even  the  busy  Mr.  Akagashi  had  to  admit.  It  seemed 
to  have  Bly  on  its  mind,  for  it  circled  over  the  cluttered 
streets,  coming  lower  and  lower  in  an  ever-narrowing  spiral. 
It  seemed  bent  upon  tearing  away  the  gilt-topped  spire  of 
the  new  Buddhist  temple  and  of  perching  on  the  roof  of 
Mr.  Awaga's  jerry-built  church. 

The  noise  of  its  propeller  was  abominable  to  the  ear. 
Just  above  the  main  street  it  hurdled  an  invisible  barrier 
and  rose  again  to  take  its  curious  flight  over  the  Bly  tract. 

291 


SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

Kipps  was  the  first  to  herald  the  monster  to  the  women 
of  the  farmhouse. 

"Gee,  moms!"  he  shrieked,  racing  headlong  toward  the 
porch.  "Ain't  she  a  whale?" 

"Ain't  she  a  whale!"  echoed  little  Nan,  covering  her 
head  as  she  ran. 

Every  inhabitant  of  the  place  stood  stockstill,  faces  up 
turned,  mouths  open,  while  the  monster  performed  its 
remarkable  antics  so  close  above  the  prune  trees  that  the 
topmost  branches  bent  earthward  as  if  under  the  stress  of 
a  tornado.  It  came  down  almost  to  a  level  with  the  trees, 
whirred  dizzily  upward,  then  descended  once  more  to  circle 
the  barn  and  perform  acrobatic  feats  about  the  chicken 
yard,  where  white  wings  were  flapping  and  hysterical  hens 
running  back  and  forth  in  a  frenzy  of  panic.  Rodger,  the 
old  brown  horse,  had  been  dozing  against  the  fence,  but 
at  sight  of  the  marvel  he  leaped  two  bars  as  gracefully  as 
a  young  thoroughbred  and  galloped  snorting  away  through 
Shimba's  settlement. 

Through  the  doomsday  racket  Susan  Skelley's  shrill 
voice  could  be  heard  in  malediction,  but  it  was  all  over  as 
quickly  as  it  had  begun.  It  looked  for  an  instant  as  if  the 
aeroplane  would  carry  away  the  Ely  chimney,  but  it  cleared 
that  obstacle,  leaped  two  hundred  feet  and  hurled  itself 
toward  the  south.  It  seemed  to  be  swallowed  up  behind 
the  lacy  barricade  of  trees.  The  sound  of  propellers  ceased 
abruptly. 

"I  think  they're  in  trouble,"  said  Anna. 

"They  ought  to  be,"  agreed  Zudie. 

"It's  the  wrath  o'  God  come  to  finish  th'  job,"  snarled 
Susan  Skelley. 

"Oh,  moms !"  shouted  Kipps.  "They've  pancaked  right 
down  on  the  field  beyond  Akagashi's  store." 

He  was  already  running  toward  the  scene  of  trouble,  and 
Anna,  seeing  no  other  member  of  her  household  about  to 
take  the  initiative,  hastened  after  him. 


THE  HEAVENS  REPLY  293 

In  the  midst  of  Mr.  Akagashi's  stubble  field  Anna  saw 
the  aeroplane  standing  like  a  great,  glorious  dragon  fly, 
unscathed  to  all  appearances.  A  flock  of  Japanese  chil 
dren  came  running  cross-lots  from  the  settlement.  They 
were  gathering  in  knots  round  the  short  blue  fusilage, 
gawking  up  at  two  aviators  who  were  then  scrambling 
stiffly  out  of  the  cockpit. 

The  first  man  to  descend  was  disguised  from  head  to 
foot  in  the  baggy  garments  of  his  trade.  After  him  came 
a  second  man  in  a  weatherproof  coat  and  leather  helmet. 
While  the  first  aviator  set  himself  at  once  to  a  businesslike 
inspection  of  the  machine,  the  second  showed  complete  in 
difference  to  the  perilous  contrivance  that  had  brought  him 
there.  He  removed  his  helmet,  tossed  it  back  in  the  fusilage 
and  stood  undoing  the  complicated  buttons  of  his  coat. 

Anna  Ely  watched  this  spectacle  at  a  dignified  distance. 
Kipps  had  crawled  under  the  barbed  wire,  eager  to  be  in 
at  the  death,  if  death  there  were.  He  had  elbowed  to  the 
forefront  of  the  spectators  and  had  planted  himself  less 
than  two  feet  away  from  the  man  with  the  weatherproof 
overcoat.  Anna  was  about  to  call  him  back. 

ii 

The  man  had  just  shed  his  big  coat  and  revealed  himself 
in  a  navy-blue  uniform.  At  the  instant  of  revelation  he 
looked  down  at  Kipps,  uttered  one  ferocious  roar  and 
picked  the  boy  up  in  his  arms.  Supporting  Kipps  on  his 
shoulder,  he  came  striding  out  of  the  mob,  and  Anna  could 
hear  a  treble  voice,  pitched  to  the  news  key  of  the  town 
crier  as  it  proclaimed:  "Hey,  moms,  it's  Sid  Footridge! 
Look  here,  moms !  It's  Sid !" 

"Well,  I  got  here,  you  see/'  said  Sid,  grinning  from  ear 
to  ear  as  he  put  Kipps  down. 

"I  see  you  did,"  she  replied,  astonished  beyond  any  show 
of  surprise. 


294  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"Kipps,"  suggested  Footridge,  "do  you  think  you  could 
run  over  to  the  machine  and  ask  Billy  Walker — he's  the 
man  in  the  munition  maker's  disguise — to  pass  me  out  my 
cap?" 

Kipps  had  barely  time  to  scamper  across  the  field  when 
Footridge  was  apologizing. 

"I  hope  I  didn't  scare  you  to  death." 

"Almost,"  Anna  confessed. 

"It  was  the  only  way  I  could  come,"  the  naval  officer 
was  explaining  rapidly.  "I've  been  away  on  target  prac 
tice — got  back  this  morning  and  found  your  telegram. 
I've  got  just  two  days  of  shore  leave,  Anna,  and  I  sail  at 
dawn  Friday." 

"It  was  wonderful  for  you  to  come,  Sid,"  she  told  him, 
her  heart  filled  with  thanksgiving. 

"It  was  something  of  a  stunt,"  he  agreed.  "I  saw  that 
it  was  too  late  for  railroad  or  touring  car,  so  I  just  natu 
rally  went  over  to  the  Marina  and  hired  a  plane.  The 
short  way's  the  air  way — forty  minutes  from  the  Marina 
to  Ely." 

"Wasn't  it  rather  expensive,  Sid?"  she  asked. 

"Not  so  very — something  less  than  a  month's  pay.  I 
just  arranged  for  the  one  way,  because,  Anna " 

He  leaned  against  the  fence  post,  and  his  healthy,  homely 
face  was  very  wistful  as  he  said:  "Well,  Anna,  there 
wouldn't  be  room  for  her  in  the  plane,  and  if  she  doesn't 
go  back  with  me  I  don't  much  care  what  happens." 

"What's  been  going  on  between  you  two  children?" 
asked  Anna,  to  whom  Zudie  had  been  more  and  more  of  a 
puzzle. 

"The  same  thing.  She  wants  me  to  quit  the  Navy  for 
her,  Anna.  Can't  you  see  how  I  stand?" 

"I  think  she's  changed  her  mind,  Sid,"  said  Anna  very 
softly. 

"Has  she?"  His  face  became  radiant  for  a  moment. 
"What's  changed  it?" 


THE  HEAVENS  REPLY  295 

Her  eyes  turned  back  toward  her  farm  and  wandered 
over  the  orchard  rows,  tired  and  sere  from  the  year's 
fruition. 

"All  this,"  she  whispered,  her  hand  sweeping  in  a  gesture 
that  covered  her  unsuccessful  enterprise.  "She  thinks  as  I 
do  now.  Yours  is  the  most  glorious  profession  of  all — to 
keep  a  band  of  steel  tight  round  my  country." 

"You  didn't  think  so  a  year  ago,"  he  interrupted. 

"No,"  said  Anna.  Then  she  added  with  a  sad,  experi 
enced  smile,  "But  that  was  a  year  ago." 

"Do  you  think  she'll  take  me  now?"  he  taxed  her,  keen 
eyes  eager  under  shaggy  brows. 

"Let  me  talk  to  her,  Sid." 

She  left  Footridge  to  settle  with  his  missing  cap  as  she 
hurried  into  the  house  as  though  fate  depended  upon  the 
turn  of  a  second.  She  found  Zudie  bending  over  a  trunk 
in  her  bedroom  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

"Sid  Footridge  has  come  to  see  you,"  she  announced  after 
dosing  the  door. 

Zudie  stood  up.  Her  face  was  flushed  with  leaning  over, 
and  it  showed  no  expression  of  surprise. 

"Where  is  he?"  she  asked  quietly. 

"He  was  getting  his  hat  out  of  an  aeroplane  when  I  saw 
him  last,"  replied  Anna. 

"What  does  he  want?" 

"He  wants  to  see  you,  Zude.  He  flew  all  the  way  over 
just  to  talk  to  you  before  he  goes."  Then  noting  the  hesi 
tancy  on  her  sister's  part:  "You're  going  to  be  good  to 
him,  aren't  you,  Zude?" 

Zudie  made  no  reply  to  this,  but  went  over  to  the  mirror 
to  smooth  her  hair.  The  act  meant  nothing  more  than  that 
Zudie  was  any  woman  about  to  talk  to  any  man.  Presently 
heavy  footsteps  were  heard  on  the  veranda  floor.  Without 
a  glance  for  her  anxious  sister,  Zudie  went  down  the  stairs. 

In  her  role  of  benevolent  spy  Anna  listened  at  the  head 
of  the  stairs,  but  gained  little  satisfaction.  Only  the  buzz- 


296  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

buzz  of  two  voices,  male  and  female,  then  long  silences,  then 
another  buzz-buzz.  Finally  she  heard  footsteps  on  the 
boards  and  the  clack  of  feminine  heels  on  the  steps. 

From  another  post  at  the  bedroom  window  she  saw  them 
walking  single  file  down  the  path  toward  the  river.  She 
had  no  glimpse  of  their  faces,  but  by  the  expression  of  their 
backs  she  was  forced  to  the  sorry  conclusion  that  they 
had  been  quarreling  again. 

For  a  gentleman  too  busy  to  come  by  any  slower  route 
than  the  air  way,  Lieutenant  Commander  Footridge  cer 
tainly  wasted  a  great  deal  of  time  that  afternoon.  The 
screen  of  willows  seemed  to  have  swallowed  up  the  enig 
matic  couple.  Anna,  as  detached  as  one  swinging  between 
heaven  and  earth,  waited  an  anxious  hour.  Then  her  heart 
stood  still  at  the  sound  of  footsteps  bounding  across  the 
veranda  and  up  the  stairs.  What  had  brought  Zudie  back 
in  undignified  haste? 

Looking  nervously  through  the  doorway,  she  was  disap 
pointed  to  find  that  it  was  not  Zudie  but  Kipps.  The  boy 
was  all  out  of  breath,  every  hair  of  his  sun-bleached  head 
bristling  with  excitement. 

"Moms,"  he  shouted,  "why  is  Sid  Footridge  sittin'  so 
long  on  a  log  with  Zudie?" 

"Hush !"  his  mother  cautioned  him. 

"Well,  why  is  he?"  persisted  Kipps,  lowering  his  voice 
several  octaves. 

"He  wants  to  talk  to  her,  I  suppose." 

"He  isn't  sayin'  a  darned  word." 

"No?" 

"He's  kissin'  her  like  all  outdoors." 

"You  shouldn't  spy  on  people,  Kipps,"  said  his  mother, 
restraining  her  impulse  to  shout  Amen ! 

"I  wasn't  spyin'.  Isn't  that  the  place  where  I  set  my 
rabbit  traps?" 

"You'd  better  stay  in  the  house  a  while  and  help  me 
pack,"  she  suggested. 


THE  HEAVENS  REPLY  297 

"All  right." 

He  leaped  impetuously  to  his  task  and  began  clattering 
among  shoe  trees,  only  to  interrupt  himself  with  the  re 
mark  :  "I  don't  see  why  he  keeps  on  kissin*  her  when  she 
doesn't  like  it." 

"How  do  you  know  she  doesn't  like  it?"  Anna  conceded. 

"Well,  if  she  did  she  wouldn't  keep  on  cryin',  would 
she?" 

"Come  here,  Kipps!"  she  entreated  her  son.  Kneeling 
beside  an  open  trunk  her  attitude  was  almost  prayerful. 

"What's  the  idea?"  he  asked,  but  his  question  was 
smothered  in  a  motherly  embrace. 

"Kiss  me!"  she  demanded. 

"Well,  I'll  be  darned!"  said  Kipps. 


in 

The  sun  was  slanting  over  the  trees  when  the  couple  came 
back  up  the  river  path.  They  were  no  longer  enigmatic, 
and  they  were  no  longer  walking  single  file.  Was  it  the 
gold  of  a  California  sun  that  carried  them  in  a  nimbus  of 
light?  Sid  Footridge's  homely  face  seemed  glorified  to  a 
heroic  beauty.  His  look  told  the  story  as  plainly  as  though 
he  had  shouted  it  over  woods  and  fields. 

It  was  then  that  Anna  cast  aside  all  reserve  to  rush  for 
ward  to  meet  them  on  the  path.  Zudie  clung  to  her  and 
cried  and  cried.  There  was  no  need  of  telling  anything 
now.  But  when  Sid  Footridge  advanced  to  plant  a  resound 
ing  kiss  upon  the  lips  of  his  sister-in-law-elect  the  manful 
Kipps  again  put  in  his  word. 

"Can  you  beat  it?"  he  asked  the  empty  heavens,  and 
strode  disgustedly  away. 

The  romantic  act  ended,  the  three  of  them  sat  on  the 
veranda  to  settle  the  practical  details  of  getting  married. 

"Zudie  thinks,"  grinned  Footridge — and  he  seemed  quite 


298  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

unable  to  control  that  obsessing  grin — "that  she  ought  to 
stick  round  until  things  are  settled." 

"With  me  ?"  cried  Anna.  "Now  don't  you  two  be  foolish 
again!  Everything's  settled  as  far  as  I'm  concerned.  I'll 
be  out  of  here  in  a  week." 

"Ann !"  Zudie  objected.  "What  will  you  do  ?  You  won't 
have  any " 

"Don't  be  silly!    Haven't  I  Susan?" 

"And  I  sail  Friday  morning,"  broke  in  Sid's  refrain. 

"You'll  be  married  this  very  afternoon,"  decided  Anna. 
"When  is  the  next  direct  steamer  for  Manila?" 

"The  Pacific  Mail.  The  Colusa  sails  Saturday  at  one 
o'clock." 

"Could  you  engage  passage  so  late  ?"  Anna  demurred. 

"I'll  pull  every  wire  on  the  coast  for  it,"  declared  the 
bridegroom-elect. 

"Oh,  Anna!"  was  all  Zudie  could  say. 

Somewhere  above  the  stubble  fields  to  the  south  the  throb 
of  Billy  Walker's  aeroplane  could  be  heard.  Gradually  it 
rose  above  the  trees  and  vanished  among  the  clouds. 

"We  can't  have  that  boat  to  honeymoon  in,"  said  Foot- 
ridge.  "Now  let's  try  and  settle  about  a  parson.  I'm  not 
much  of  an  expert,  but  we  ought  to  be  able  to  dig  up  a 
good  one  at  Sacramento." 

"You'd  be  wasting  a  good  deal  of  time,"  declared  Anna 
in  a  tone  which  caused  the  lovers  to  look  round.  "You'll  do 
one  thing  for  me,  won't  you,  Sid  ?" 

"Anna" — he  reached  out  and  caught  her  hands  in  his — 
"I'd  take  my  heart  out  and  skin  it  alive  if  you  asked  me 
to." 

"It's  not  much — and  I  hope  you  won't  think  me  senti 
mental.  But,  Sid — would  you  mind  being  married  right 
here  in  Ely?" 

"Why,  Ann !"  interposed  her  sister.  "There's  no  minister 
here — except  the  Reverend  Professor  Awaga." 


THE  HEAVENS  REPLY  299 

'That's  exactly  the  one  I  mean,"  replied  Anna.  "He's  an 
ordained  minister  of  the  gospel/* 

"You  don't  mean  a  Jap?"  roared  Footridge. 

"Yes.  He  and  his  wife  are  Christians.  They  may  not 
be  of  our  color  or  denomination,  but  they  are  as  good 
people  as  I  have  ever  met.  They're  having  an  awful  time, 
Sid — and  somehow  I  should  like  to  see  the  little  preacher 
perform  the  ceremony.  It  would  make  me  feel  better  to 
ward — toward  a  lot  of  things  we're  putting  behind  us." 

"I  don't  care  if  he's  a  Siamese  Mormon !"  grinned  Foot- 
ridge,  and  so  it  was  decided. 


IV 

The  ceremony  in  the  shabby  little  Methodist  church  had 
been  of  no  practical  convenience,  that  was  sure,  for  it  had 
necessitated  a  racing  performance  on  the  part  of  Henry 
Johnson  in  order  to  carry  the  bride-elect  as  far  as  Sacra 
mento  for  the  license.  But  it  satisfied  something  in  Anna's 
heart — put  a  drop  of  sweet  into  her  bitterness  for  the  yel 
low  town  of  Ely. 

The  Oriental  wireless  telephone  seemed  to  have  spread 
the  glad  tidings,  for  there  was  already  a  throng  of  Jap 
anese — children  in  the  majority — gaping  blankly  as  the 
bridal  party — Anna,  Zudie,  Sid,  Susan  Skelley,  Kipps  and 
Nan — left  the  automobile  to  enter  the  church  door.  Henry 
Johnson  shambled  over  from  the  farm  and  lurked  in  the 
vestibule.  Heads  of  wiry  black  hair  were  clustered  to 
gether  at  the  entrance,  elfin-bright  eyes  peered  into  the  bleak 
interior  as  the  long-haired  ones  went  up  the  aisle  to  stand 
before  the  weather-beaten  pulpit,  which  Mrs.  Awaga  had 
decorated  for  the  occasion  with  flowers  from  her  garden. 

It  was  a  gaunt  and  ugly  room.  On  the  stained  walls 
hung  a  few  religious  lithographs,  partially  concealing  cracks 
in  the  plaster — illustrations  of  the  good  Samaritan  and  of 
the  resurrection,  with  texts  in  Japanese.  On  wooden  tags, 


300  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

hung  in  a  long  row  above  the  cheap  wainscoting,  were  the 
names  of  Mrs.  Awaga's  Sunday-school  scholars,  each  writ 
ten  in  the  blotchy  characters  of  Nippon. 

The  place  was  so  bare,  so  tragic  in  its  simplicity!  In 
stead  of  pews,  long  rows  of  kitchen  chairs  stood  waiting 
Awaga's  dwindling  congregation.  The  ecclesiastical  scroll 
work  on  a  cottage  organ  in  the  corner  did  its  bit  toward 
proclaiming  poverty. 

Anna  felt  the  pity  of  it  all  as  she  stood  aside  and  heard 
the  little  yellow  man  in  the  long  frock  coat  struggling  with 
the  English  of  the  marriage  ceremony.  Once  or  twice  he 
had  to  go  back  and  read  a  passage  over  again  in  order  that 
the  contracting  couple  might  understand  sufficiently  to  make 
the  response.  Came  another  pause  at  the  line,  "With  this 
ring  I  thee  wed."  Sid  Footridge  blushed  purple.  The 
headlong  fellow  had  forgotten  that  detail! 

The  halt  was  just  for  an  instant,  for  Anna  Ely  pulled 
a  band  from  her  finger  and  dropped  it  into  the  bridegroom's 
palm.  It  was  her  wedding  ring. 

"Let  us  pray,"  said  the  little  minister,  closing  his  book 
and  raising  his  short  arms. 

The  words  from  his  high-pitched  voice  came  sonorous 
and  devout,  but  they  were  quite  indistinguishable.  Then 
Anna  understood.  His  command  of  English  had  failed. 
He  was  praying  in  Japanese. 

What  a  prayer  might  that  have  been!  Prayer  to  an 
Almighty  who  has  set  the  gulf  of  race,  wider  than  any 
ocean,  between  peoples  equally  human  yet  equally  unable 
to  understand!  Prayer  of  Asia  to  the  Christ  of  Asia  for 
some  answer  to  the  yearnings  of  two  alien  worlds  held 
apart  by  a  law  as  immutable  as  that  which  keeps  the  planets 
in  their  courses ! 

At  last  the  little  preacher  raised  his  head  and  ceased  to 
pray.  The  silence  of  infinity  filled  the  church  for  just  an 
instant. 

"I  wish  you  all  can  be  very  happy!"  said  the  Reverend 


THE  HEAVENS  REPLY  301 

Professor  Awaga,  holding  out  his  tiny  hand  and  chuckling 
the  easy  chuckle  of  his  race. 

"Thank  you,  parson,"  said  Footridge.  "You  couldn't 
have  done  a  better  job  with  a  pipe  organ  and  a  vested 
choir." 

"Oh,  we  not  very  much  to  offer/'  he  apologized,  bobbing 
and  persisting  in  his  chuckle. 

The  rest  was  a  daze  to  Anna.  She  had  an  impression  of 
Zudie's  beloved  arms  round  her  neck  and  Zudie's  voice 
caressing  her.  Somewhere  out  by  the  door,  too,  she  came 
to  herself  to  hear  Sid  Footridge  whisper :  "Say,  Anna,  I've 
been  trying  to  slip  ten  bucks  to  that  parson,  and  he  won't 
take  it.  Can  you  beat  it  ?  Says  the  ceremony's  his  wedding 
present !" 

"Take  her  away,  Sid,"  she  begged.  "I  can't  stand  it  much 
longer." 

And  then  she  saw  the  bridal  couple  stepping  into  her 
pretty  car  and  heard  the  self-starter  snarl  metallically  as 
Henry  Johnson  put  his  heel  upon  it.  Zudie  was  waving  at 
her  and  blowing  kisses  through  the  window,  but  Anna  stood 
immovable,  watching  the  car  roll  smoothly  down  the  asphalt 
road.  Zudie  had  slipped  out  of  her  life. 

Long  after  the  bridal  car  had  faded  among  barns  and 
fences  down  the  road  she  stood,  her  dry  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  spot  where  last  she  had  seen  it. 

"Mrs.  Ely,  please!" 

Anna  looked  round  and  saw  Mrs.  Awaga  standing  at  her 
elbow,  her  body  bent  politely. 

"Mrs.  Bly,"  insisted  the  gentle  voice,  "my  husband 
should  like  to  ask  you.  Could  you  stay  with  us  to  supper? 
It  is  very  poor,  but  we  should  so  enjoy  having  you!" 


CHAPTER  XXVII:  THE  LAST  NIGHT 


ANNA  spent  her  last  evening  in  Bly  with  the  coura 
geous,  pitiful  little  couple  who  kept  house  in  a  sort 
of  apartment  in  the  back  of  the  Japanese  Methodist  Church. 
There  was  a  box  of  a  kitchen  where  Mrs.  Awaga  prepared 
the  meals.  In  the  living-room  the  Awagas  ate,  studied  and 
— at  least  so  Anna  suspected — slept.  Through  a  half-open 
door  she  could  see  a  wide  brass  bed  wherein  reposed  three 
little  Awagas,  their  black  and  wiry  heads  lying  all  in  a  row, 
suggesting  so  many  Japanese  dolls  tucked  in  for  the  night. 

The  living-room  was  a  jumble  of  odds  and  ends  which 
looked  like  relics  from  every  secondhand  store  in  Sacra 
mento.  The  articles  of  furniture  were  all  shabby  and  all 
in  a  bad  period  of  the  Victorian  or  a  little  later.  There 
was  a  marble-topped  table  with  awful  Egyptian  legs,  a 
whatnot  of  the  design  known  to  our  grandfathers  as 
"rustic,"  two  tassel-edged  rockers  which  creaked  on  patent 
springs.  The  carpet,  which  had  once  been  flowered,  was 
worn  to  the  woof  in  gray  footpaths  from  the  kitchen  to  the 
dining  table  and  from  the  side  door  to  the  kitchen. 

This  room  displayed  the  ugliest  of  everything  European. 
It  gave  the  impression  of  a  people  who  had  lost  their  own 
beautiful  art  and  were  utterly  confused  by  the  aesthetics  of 
another  race.  Nowhere  was  there  any  trace  of  the  gracious, 
lovely  things  of  Japan,  save  in  the  corner  there  was  a 
framed  diploma  which  Mr.  Awaga  explained  he  had  earned 
upon  his  graduation  from  Waseda  University.  The  pictures 
on  the  wall  were  mostly  poor  engravings.  There  was  a 
portrait  of  Theodore  Roosevelt;  an  enlarged  photograph 

302 


THE  LAST  NIGHT  303 

showing  numerous  little  yellow  men  in  long  frock  coats; 
one  of  those  maudlin  colored  prints,  so  dear  to  our  ances 
tors,  depicting  a  sirupy  child  playing  with  a  kitten. 

"We've  been  getting  our  things  together  for  a  long  time," 
explained  Mrs.  Awaga,  and  her  air  betrayed  pride  in  having 
made  a  home  so  thoroughly  consistent  with  her  American 
ideals. 

"Yiss,"  agreed  the  Reverend  Professor  Awaga,  "many 
we  bring  all  way  from  San  Frisco." 

All  this  time  Mrs.  Awaga  was  trotting  along  the  worn 
footpath  between  kitchen  and  dining  table. 

"We  going  to  try  give  you  American  supper,"  smiled  the 
hostess.  "My  husband  has  killed  our  family  chicken  in 
your  honor." 

"How  delightful!"  cried  Anna,  yet  feeling  that  the  joke 
about  the  chicken  was  no  joke.  "I  hope  you're  not  avoid 
ing  Japanese  food  because  of  me.  I  love  it." 

"You  are  kind  to  say  so,"  declared  Mrs.  Awaga.  "But 
I  am  sure  no  American  could  like  it  as  well.  You  eat 
much  meat  to  make  you  so  tall  and  beautiful." 

When  the  meal  was  on  the  table  it  proved  to  be  American 
enough,  but  rather  flavorless  and  poor.  The  cooking  was 
like  the  furniture — an  attempt  at  a  misunderstood  ideal 
The  rice,  of  course,  was  perfect,  because  to  any  Japanese 
it  is  a  sin  to  spoil  rice.  But  the  potatoes  were  heavy,  the 
tea  acrid  and  the  chicken  indifferently  fried. 

"I  know  that  we  do  not  understand  it,"  admitted  little 
Mrs.  Awaga  in  tiny  despair. 

"Oh,  it's  delicious,"  lied  Anna  like  a  perfect  guest. 

"But  we  so  wanted  to  see  you  before  you  go  away." 

"So  much,"  Mr.  Awaga  supplied.  "You  are  been  so 
kind." 

This  was  toward  the  end  of  their  meal  while  they  were 
indulging  in  preserves  and  baker's  bread. 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  much  I've  admired  the  way  youVe 
worked  here,"  said  Anna.  "And  against  such  odds  too.  If 


304  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

I  ever  come  back  I'll  attend  your  church  and  do  everything 
I  can  to  keep  it  going." 

"Shank  you !"  said  Mr.  Awaga  with  a  dreary  hiss. 

The  sharp  black  eyes  of  the  little  couple  exchanged  quick 
glances  before  Mrs.  Awaga  said:  "We  shall  not  be  here, 
I  am  afraid,  when  you  might  come  back." 

"What?    Are  you  going  too?" 

"Yiss." 

Mr.  Awaga  said  the  word  in  a  voice  that  was  very 
solemn. 

"But  where  are  you  going?" 

"Where  the  Lord  sent  us,"  said  he,  and  looked  again  at 
his  wife. 

"I  do  not  suppose  you  realize,  Mrs.  Ely,"  explained  the 
woman,  speaking  for  her  inarticulate  husband,  "what  goes 
on  behind  the  scene.  You  Americans  see  in  my  race  just 
one  problem,  and  you  are  not  aware  of  the  difficulties  be 
tween  us.  Much  politics  has  happened  in  Ely,  and  it  is 
decide  that  we  should  go.  The  Buddhist  temple  has 
arranged  that  for  us," 

"But,  Mrs.  Awaga,"  exclaimed  Anna,  "surely  the  Bud 
dhists  have  no  authority  over  your  church!" 

"No,"  she  smiled.  "But  they  have  influence  over  those 
who  have." 

"But  your  church  is  controlled  by  an  American  organiza 
tion  !" 

"So  it  seem,"  said  the  little  schoolma'am.  "Good  Ameri- 
man  ministers  got  us  here.  To  them  we  are  much  obliged 
for  salary." 

A  look  round  the  poor  interior  gave  a  hint  at  the  size  of 
that  salary. 

"But  words  can  be  spoken  into  powerful  ears.  We  have 
not  made  friendship  to  the  Buddhists." 

"How  in  the  world  can  that  affect  the  Methodists?" 
asked  Anna,  quite  puzzled. 

"Ah,    how   easy   it   is   to   start   wrong  tales   about  us! 


THE  LAST  NIGHT  305 

Buddhists  have  many  tongues,  and  they  clatter  smoothly 
with  Christians.  Then  there  are  Christians  and  Christians. 
Mr.  Oki  is  Christian  of  one  kind.  See  how  the  Beneficent 
Society  can  make  sweet  with  the  Methodist  church,  prom 
ising  many  converts ! 

"So  stories  get  started.  They  say  us  to  be  mischief- 
makers,  unable  to  keep  our  congregation  because  of  bad 
tongues.  They  even  blame  us  with  death  of  Mrs.  Shimba, 
saying  that  we  poisoned  her  poor  brain  against  her  hus 
band.  Every  misfortune  in  Bly  is  dropped  on  our  church 
door.  Therefore  Honorable  Bishop  come  to  tell  us  that 
we  shall  be  removed." 

"We  got  such  many  things  together  here,"  declared  little 
Awaga,  blinking  at  the  ugly  collection  which  represented 
home  to  him. 

"But  I  could  go  to  the  bishop,"  Anna  volunteered.  "If 
I  told  him  how  heroically  you  have  worked  and  how  theyVe 
plotted  against  you " 

"No."  There  was  all  the  mystery  of  Asia  in  the  woman's 
eyes  as  she  said  that.  "Honorable  Bishop  must  be  ap 
proached  at  another  way." 

"But  how?" 

"He  is  good  man,"  she  said,  "but  he  love  Japanese  too 
much  to  behold  their  politics.  What  Beneficent  Society 
tells  him  he  believe.  Therefore  Beneficent  Society  is  the 
only  way " 

"I'll  go  to  them  then,"  declared  Anna.  "Just  tell  me 
where  to*  go,  whom  I  shall  see." 

Again  that  rapid  look  between  husband  and  wife.  Mrs. 
Awaga  hesitated  an  instant  to  ask  him  a  question  in  Jap 
anese.  He  replied  hastily  and  returned  his  anxious  gaze  to 
Anna's  face. 

"You  should  see  K.  Sato,"  said  the  little  woman  solemnly, 
lingering  over  the  name  of  a  hidden  power. 

"K.  Sato !"  She  might  as  well  have  been  sent  upon  a 
mission  to  the  Mikado.  "Does  any  one  ever  see  K.  Sato?" 


306  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"It  could  be  done,  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Awaga.  "If  you 
go  to  Natural  Energy  Fruit  and  Land  Company  in  San 
Francisco.  He  is  president.  They  have  great  offices 
there." 

"But  would  anything  I  could  say  have  any  effect  on 
Sato?" 

"I  could  not  say.  But  he  much  broader  in  mind  than 
others  of  my  countrymen." 


Anna's  house  seemed  too  quiet  that  night  when  she  re 
turned  to  it.  She  had  a  feeling  that  not  only  Zudie  but 
her  children  had  deserted  her.  Haunted  by  this  obsession, 
she  crept  up  to  their  room  and  opened  the  door  a  crack, 
to  be  heartened  at  sight  of  the  two  yellow  heads,  pillowed 
as  peacefully  as  Mrs.  Awaga's  dolls  had  been.  She  felt 
now  that  her  responsibilities  were  simplified,  even  at  so 
high  a  cost.  Her  future,  such  as  it  was,  lay  clear  before 
her. 

Somewhere  in  the  culinary  regions  downstairs  she  could 
hear  the  clatter  of  kitchenware,  and  by  the  sound  she  real 
ized  that  Susan  Skelley  had  gone  about  the  work  of  pack 
ing  without  a  thought  of  union  hours  or  overtime  charges. 
Bless  Susan's  dour  old  heart!  Above  the  clangor  of  pots 
and  pans  Anna  recognized  her  monotonous  scolding  tone, 
and  then  the  heavier  notes  of  an  earnest  platform  speaker. 
And  from  the  commingled  sounds  she  knew  that  Susan  had 
put  Henry  Johnson  to  work. 

Anna  tiptoed  downstairs,  resolved  to  forget  herself  in  the 
preparations  for  retreat.  But  as  she  wandered  from  room 
to  room  she  found  that  Susan  had  performed  miracles 
during  the  few  hours.  Pictures  had  been  taken  from  the 
walls,  wrapped  in  newspapers  and  stacked  in  piles ;  books 
had  been  laid  away  in  their  packing  cases;  curtains  had 
been  taken  down,  rugs  rolled  up;  pieces  of  family  bric-a- 


THE  LAST  NIGHT  307 

brae  again  reposed  in  the  barrels  which  had  brought  them 
there. 

Anna  sat  in  the  ordered  chaos,  thinking,  thinking.  She 
was  glad  that  she  had  parted  with  Zudie  in  a  flame  of  im 
pulse,  accomplished  it  all  in  haste  while  the  courage  was 
with  her.  Had  she  lingered  another  day  she  might  have 
weakened,  might  have  begged  her  little  sister  to  stay  and 
help  her  fight  it  out.  And  Zudie,  she  knew,  would  have 
stayed. 

In  this  first  hour  of  loneliness  Anna  realized  how  much 
she  had  leaned  upon  that  sprightly  girl  for  every  practical 
advice.  Anna  wasn't  practical.  Now  the  fact  stared  her 
in  the  face.  She  had  no  plans  for  investing  the  small  for 
tune  which  had  come  to  her  so  easily;  she  had  no  plans 
beyond  Saturday,  when  she  would  say  good-by  to  Zudie, 
possibly  for  always.  Manila  was  such  a  world  away ! 

Life  is  an  oddly  managed  thing,  so  dependent  upon  the 
whim  of  governments  and  boards  of  directors  and  bodies 
of  men  acting  as  proxies  for  fate.  Anna  thought  of  the 
little  Awagas,  devoted  and  humble,  doing  their  duty  as  they 
saw  it.  Fate  in  the  form  of  a  yellow  man  named  Sato  had 
decided  that  these  poor  pawns  were  worth  taking  off  the 
board.  There  was  neither  right  nor  wrong  in  this.  It  was 
merely  Sato's  move — that  was  all.  But  were  these  proxies 
of  fate  incapable  of  compassion?  Were  they  also  auto 
mata,  like  their  victims,  to  be  moved  only  by  some  stronger 
hand  from  above? 

Anna  had  reached  the  determination  that  she  would  see 
K.  Sato  and  do  her  poor  best  for  the  Awagas,  when  she 
heard  shuffling  feet  in  the  hall  and  beheld  Henry  Johnson, 
his  long  face  streaked  with  soot  from  his  labors  with  a  stove 
pipe,  bowing  elegantly  at  the  door. 

"Madam,"  he  began,  stepping  nimbly  into  his  chosen  role 
of  Greek  chorus,  "every  alpha  has  its  omega,  isn't  it  so? 
The  twilight  of  the  gods  has  arrived;  Wotan's  palace 
tumbles  and  Valhalla  erupts  to  the  Valkyr  song  of  this 


308  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

Miss  Skelley,  who  is  the  only  living  person  able  to  talk  me 
off  my  feet  When  do  we  turn  over  the  property,  Mrs. 
Ely?" 

"Not  until  the  fifteenth,"  she  said ;  then  added,  "I'm  go 
ing  to-morrow  afternoon." 

"Ah" — the  gesture  of  his  loosely  knit  arm  seemed  to  in 
clude  the  entire  house — "but  you  are  not  intending  to 
surrender  all  this  to  the  heathen !" 

"The  furniture?  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about  that, 
Henry.  I  don't  want  to  come  back — if  I  can  help  it."  She 
looked  earnestly  into  the  living  paradox  which  was  his  face 
before  she  asked,  "I  wonder  if  I  can  trust  you,  Henry?" 

"Do  you  think  you  can?"  he  responded  quite  cheerfully. 

"You're  the  only  man  about  the  place,  and  you  could 
help  me  a  great  deal  if  you'd  stay  and  see  that  everything  is 
put  in  storage  properly." 

"That  would  be  a  rare  chance,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  "for 
me  to  steal  a  number  of  things." 

"You  wouldn't  do  that !" 

The  hybrid  regarded  her  speculatively ;  a  look  of  pathetic 
humor  had  come  over  his  queer  face. 

"No,  I  wouldn't.  Mrs.  Ely,  it's  a  curious  coincidence,  but 
I've  come  to-night  to  restore  something  which  I  have 
already  stolen  from  you !" 

"Why,  Henry!" 

Anna  knew  not  whether  to  be  amused  or  alarmed  when 
the  Eurasian  began  fumbling  among  the  folds  of  his  faded 
blue  sweater,  to  bring  out  an  object  which  had  been  swell 
ing  the  garment  like  a  hidden  tumor. 

It  was  a  little  desk  clock,  a  frivolous  gilt  object,  all 
ringed  round  with  flowers  and  Cupids.  Anna  could  not 
restrain  her  mirth  at  sight  of  a  wedding  present  of  the 
sort  well  lost  to  any  tastefully  arranged  house. 

"If  you  were  going  to  steal,"  she  laughed,  "why  did  you 
pick  on  that  ?" 

"Now  there's  a  problem,"  declared  Henry,  holding  the 


THE  LAST  NIGHT  309 

ornate  object  up  by  its  ring.    "It's  really  rather  ugly,  isn't 
it?" 

"Maybe  it  is,"  agreed  Anna,  who  had  never  considered 
it  one  way  or  the  other.  To  her  a  clock  was  a  clock. 

"Motives  for  crimes  are  a  study  for  the  psychologist/'  he 
continued,  tilting  his  head  critically  toward  the  object  under 
discussion.  "Possibly  I  desired  something  to  keep  time  by. 
One  of  the  failures  of  my  life  has  been  a  lack  of  punctu 
ality.  I  have  never  carried  a  watch,  largely  because  the 
price  has  been  prohibitive.  Possibly  too" — here  he 
squinted  his  queer  eyes  into  the  face  of  the  clock — "pos 
sibly  my  motives  were  merely  sordid.  In  a  tight  corner  1 
might  sell  it  for  that  mathematically  perfect  thing — a  square 
meal.  But  I  don't  think  that  was  it  entirely." 

He  paused  and  swung  the  clock  on  his  long  forefinger  as 
his  eyes  wandered  toward  Anna. 

"Possibly  I  took  it  instinctively,  because  it  reminded  me  a 
little  of  you." 

"I  like  that !"  she  cried,  remembering  his  comment  on  its 
ugliness. 

"Not  aesthetically  perhaps,"  he  resumed.  "But  it  is  such 
a  symbol.  It  has  not  been  built  for  use,  bubfor  decoration. 
Originally  designed  for  some  boudoir  of  ormolu,  French 
brocade  and  painted  flower  panels,  here  it  has  been  ticking 
its  life  away  in  the  midst  of  a  prune  orchard.  Tempera 
mentally,  too,  it  is  significant.  It  keeps  very  poor  time. 
Either  its  wheels  are  running  away  with  its  hands  or  it 
stops  dead  and  refuses  all  human  comfort." 

"It  is  a  very  imperfect  thing,"  she  admitted,  quite  without 
humor. 

"Isn't  it?  And  that  is  why  I  regard  it  with  so  much 
affection." 

He  was  about  to  set  it  down  on  the  table  beside  her 
when  she  stayed  him  with  a  gesture  and  a  smile. 

"I  think  you'd  better  keep  it,  Henry,"  she  said. 

"Thank  you." 


310  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

With  irreproachable  dignity  he  restored  the  clods  to  its 
hiding  place  under  his  sweater.  Then  he  began  bowing 
himself  out  of  the  room. 

"You  can  trust  me  to  carry  out  your  orders,"  was  his 
final  declaration  ere  he  ambled  down  the  hall  toward  his 
Spartan  quarters  in  the  rear. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII:    THE  VANISHING  SATO 


IT  was  on  Monday  morning  that  Anna  Bly  set  out  from 
her  obscure  hotel  to  find  the  man  who,  through  the  carv- 
en  door  of  Buddha,  might  say  the  word  to  save  a  Christian 
minister  to  his  dwindling  congregation.  She  had  applied 
at  the  offices  of  the  Natural  Energy  Fruit  and  Land  Com 
pany  on  Saturday  just  after  Zudie's  boat  had  sailed  from 
a  Pacific  Mail  dock.  But  the  place  had  been  closed  on  the 
afternoon  of  rest.  Anna  had  spent  a  blank,  bleak  Sunday 
in  a  Geary  Street  boarding  house  which,  deceiving  the 
passer-by  with  the  sign  "Hotel,"  offered  the  depressing  hos 
pitality  of  musty  carpets  and  stringy  curtains.  The  place 
was  called  the  Royalmere. 

"The  Royal  Smear  it  is,  an'  that's  the  truth,"  Susan 
Skelley  had  proclaimed  upon  her  first  sniff  of  the  dank 
interior. 

Anna  had  passed  Friday  night  and  Saturday  morning 
with  the  new-made  bride.  At  dawn  on  Friday  Sid  Foot- 
ridge's  squadron  had  faded  into  the  fog  beyond  the  nar 
rows  light.  They  are  always  unsatisfactory  things,  these 
hours  of  waiting  to  say  good-by.  Trivialities  obtrude  them 
selves  ;  the  mind  is  occupied  with  the  practical  job  of  getting 
away.  How  many  a  sweet  word  has  been  left  unspoken 
because  a  steamer  trunk  refuses  to  close!  The  press  of 
detail  crushes  out  sentiment  and  philosophy — and  it  is  often 
better  so. 

Only  once  had  Zudie  spoken  her  heart. 

"I  never  thought  I  could  be  a  navy  wife/'  she  had  said. 
"I  used  to  wonder  how  you  ever  managed  with  Alec — 
always  moving  from  port  to  port,  always  waiting  for  him 

3" 


312  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

to  come  ashore.     But  I  know  now,  Anna,  how  you  felt." 

"It's  the  waiting  that  makes  us  love  them,"  Anna  had 
answered  quietly. 

But  the  pain  of  a  second  parting  had  been  over  in  an 
instant.  Then  whistles  brayed,  the  deck  was  a-flutter  with 
handkerchiefs  and  officious  little  tugs  hauled  the  dignified 
monster  out  into  the  stream.  That  chapter  was  closed  for 
Anna ;  and  she  was  glad  when  Monday  came  and  she  could 
finish  her  one  remaining  business  with  the  little  town  of 
Bly. 

She  found  the  offices  of  the  Natural  Energy  Fruit  and 
Land  Company  prosperously  established  on  the  tenth  floor 
of  a  Market  Street  skyscraper.  The  main  office  which  she 
entered  expressed  itself  in  terms  of  wealth  from  polished 
mahogany  counters  to  gilt-lettered  windows.  In  and  out 
of  many  corridors  and  anterooms  smartly  dressed  Japanese 
clerks,  their  wiry  mustaches  cropped  and  their  hair  combed 
back  in  fierce  black  pompadours,  were  scurrying  about  the 
business  of  Natural  Energy. 

In  the  large  room  beyond  could  be  glimpsed  the  glories 
of  a  cashier's  department,  outfitted  like  a  national  bank  with 
many  quick  and  clever  yellow  faces  behind  brass-grilled 
windows.  To  all  appearances  the  Natural  Energy  Fruit 
and  Land  Company  was — as  sensational  papers  had  hinted 
— a  powerful  machine  with  the  wealth  of  a  government  be 
hind  it. 

Anna  stood  for  an  instant  confused  by  the  prevalent 
bustle.  The  Natural  Energy  had  no  end  of  business  that 
morning.  Peasant  Japanese,  wandering  with  that  lost  ex 
pression  peculiar  to  the  city-visiting  yokel,  would  be 
addressed  in  their  native  tongue  by  the  Natural  Energy's 
brisk  representatives;  then  they  would  be  personally  con 
ducted  from  counter  to  counter  to  linger  over  typewritten 
documents  in  blue  covers.  A  few  of  them  would  be  led 
away  through  swinging  doors  handsomely  lettered  in  hira- 
kana,  the  flowing  shorthand  of  Japan.  Stout,  middle-aged 


THE  VANISHING  SATO  313 

sons  of  Nippon,  obviously  representing  the  commercial 
class,  asked  authoritative  questions  of  the  amiable  clerks 
behind  the  longest  counter. 

Several  American  typists  and  a  few  Japanese  girls,  the 
latter  slim  and  tidy  in  American  shirt  waists,  clicked  busily 
at  the  keys. 

The  sweetest  Japanese  in  the  world  stood  behind  a  desk 
labeled  "Information,"  and  when  Anna  approached  him  his 
smile  revealed  all  but  his  wisdom  teeth,  and  he  writhed  in 
excruciating  politeness. 

"Do  you  think  it  would  be  possible  for  me  to  see  Mr. 
Sato  ?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  madam !"  He  sipped  twice  and  blinked  his  flat  lids. 
"That  would  be  entirely  difficult  this  time." 

"But  I  have  come  here  on  rather  important  business." 

"So  sorry!  Could  you  tell  me  that  business  so  I  could 
take  it  up?" 

His  voice  bubbled  into  a  series  of  giggles,  so  amiable  was 
his  mood. 

"I'll  have  to  talk  to  Mr.  Sato,"  she  insisted. 

"So  sorry  we  must  know  the  nature,"  he  trilled.  "We 
could  give  such  advice  from  our  various  departments.  Pos 
sibly  it  is  rear  estate  you  wish  to  discuss  ?" 

"No,  not  real  estate." 

"Legar  matter?" 

"No,  not  legal  matter.  I  know  he's  a  very  busy  man, 
but  I  think  he'll  give  me  a  moment." 

"Shank  you !"  declared  the  sweetest  Japanese  in  the 
world.  "I  see  what  I  can." 

He  dodged  behind  a  glass  screen  and  was  gone  a  long 
time.  Other  members  of  his  information  bureau  were  busy 
on  both  ends  of  the  counter,  giving  advice  in  Japanese  to 
a  throng  of  Natural  Energy's  customers.  At  last  the  sweet 
little  man  brought  out  a  very  thin  Japanese  with  a  mourn 
ful  gray  mustache. 

"Who  you  wish  see  ?"  asked  the  latest  arrival,  his  manner 


314  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

markedly  contrasting  with  the  saccharine  air  of  his  inferior. 

"I  should  like  to  speak  to  Mr.  Sato,"  she  began  all  over. 

"Eh !"  The  red-rimmed  eyes  glared  at  her  through  bril 
liant  spectacles.  "I  am  second  vice-president.  What  you 
wish  say?" 

"I  am  engaged  in  farming  at  Ely,"  she  decided  to  tell 
him.  "I  have  come  with  a  message  from  one  of  his  friends 
there." 

"Which  friend?" 

"A  Mr.  Awaga — he's  the  Japanese  clergyman  there,  you 
know." 

"Eh!    What  he  can  do  for  Mr.  Awaga?" 

"It  is  confidential  business — I  must  speak  directly  to  Mr. 
Sato." 

"Eh!" 

Without  another  word  of  encouragement  the  melancholy 
person  turned  on  his  heel  and  vanished  behind  the  screen. 

Anna's  wait  this  time  was  longer  than  before.  Her  feet 
grew  weary  of  standing  in  one  place.  She  leaned  on  the 
counter  and  tried  to  amuse  herself  with  guessing  just  what 
the  stenographers  could  be  putting  down  so  earnestly. 
Once  she  lost  patience  and  appealed  to  the  sweetest  Jap 
anese  in  the  world,  who  looked  up  from  the  confidential 
advice  he  was  doling  out  to  his  countrymen. 

"Prerry  soon  somebody  tell,"  he  sipped,  and  resumed 
his  discussion. 

Finally  a  handsome  yellow  boy  with  a  face  as  smooth 
as  an  egg  made  his  appearance  from  behind  the  magic 
screen.  When  she  saw  him  Anna  had  the  impression  that 
the  second  vice-president  had  gone  back  to  his  desk  and 
told  the  office  boy  to  pounce  out  at  her  in  half  an  hour. 
Her  impression  was  justified  when  the  youth  approached 
her. 

"Mr.  Sato  out,"  he  cooed. 

"Do  you  think  I  could  make  an  appointment  with  him 
for  to-morrow  ?"  she  asked,  already  sufficiently  discouraged. 


THE  VANISHING  SATO  315 

"I  see,"  smiled  the  lad,  and  vanished  into  the  unknown. 

Dune  Leacy  had  once  told  Anna  that  a  Japanese  never 
says  no,  and  in  this  instance  the  graceful  national  habit 
was  prettily  illustrated.  She  drooped  against  the  counter, 
growing  more  satisfied  as  time  passed  that  the  Japanese 
office  boy  had  gone  back  to  pitch  pennies — or  whatever 
it  is  that  Japanese  office  boys  pitch  in  moments  of  leisure. 

She' had  just  settled  herself  upon  a  bench,  determined  to 
bide  her  time,  when  a  huge,  red-faced  American  in  the  gray 
cutaway  coat  and  wide-brimmed  hat  of  a  minor  statesman 
came  swinging  in  and  presented  himself  noisily  at  the  infor 
mation  desk. 

"I  want  to  see  Sato,"  he  rumbled  as  he  glared  savagely 
and  chewed  a  rag  of  a  cigar. 

"Which  name  you  say?"  asked  the  sweetest  Japanese  in 
the  world. 

"Senator  Ogensbury." 

Anna  looked  up  with  renewed  curiosity  at  the  name  of 
the  state  senator  who — while  assuming  indignation  against 
Japanese  encroachments — had  managed  to  blockade  every 
Asiatic  land  law  so  far  suggested. 

The  sweetest  little  man  behind  the  desk  fairly  melted 
into  sirup  before  so  mighty  a  person. 

"You  come  this  way,  senator!"  he  sipped.  "Mr.  Sato 
see  you  this  door,  sair." 

The  little  guide,  bowing  like  a  major-domo,  opened  the 
gate  and  showed  the  distinguished  visitor  to  a  heavy  door 
in  the  rear. 

All  of  which  goes  to  show  that  you  can  find  anybody  if 
you  only  know  how. 

ii 

Anna  did  not  permit  the  office  boy  to  stain  his  soul  with 
another  mendacity.  She  rose  and  had  started  toward  the 
exit  when  she  recognized  a  face  which  was  welcome  to  her 


316  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

for  the  first  time  since  she  had  known  it.    Hurrying  busily 
among  the  minor  officials  was  the  elegant  Mr.  Oki. 

"Ah,  Mrs.  Ely!"  he  came  rushing  toward  her,  showing 
the  smile  that  had  always  reminded  Anna  of  so  much  cocoa 
butter. 

"You're  in  this  office  too,"  she  said.     "How  charming!" 

"I  became  appointed  here  only  last  week,"  he  explained 
with  the  air  of  one  too  poor  to  deserve  such  a  reward. 
"I  am  now  second  assistant  treasurer.  Is  it  not  nice  offices 
we  got  here?" 

"Wonderful !"  she  declared.  "They  seem  to  express  un 
limited  power." 

"Quite  so."  He  paused  for  an  instant  as  though  taking 
time  to  swallow  her  remark.  "We  are  going  at  everything 
on  grand  scale.  That  is  secret  of  success,  is  it  not,  Mrs. 
Ely?" 

"The  very  secret,"  she  agreed. 

"And  we  have  wonderful  plans  for  improvement  in  all 
California.  We  shall  show  them  what  blessings  Japanese 
can  make  for  America." 

"Is  that  a  threat,  Mr.  Oki?"  she  asked. 

He  giggled  gleefully. 

"I  wish  I  could  learn  jokes  like  you  do !  Something  we 
can  never  know  right  is  American  jokes.  What  brought 
you  so  far  in  the  air  this  afternoon?" 

"I  have  been  trying  to  see  Mr.  Sato,"  she  admitted. 
"Perhaps  you  could  help  me." 

"Oh,  how  I  wish  it !  But  this  Mr.  Sato  is  long  time  out 
of  San  Francisco.  We  cannot  tell  when  to  expect  him  back 
sometime." 

She  overlooked  this  pleasant  chasm  between  fact  and 
fiction. 

"Ah,  Mrs.  Ely,"  he  cooed,  "that  is  very  happy  news  we 
hear  about  your  sister's  wedding." 

"News  travels  fast,  doesn't  it?"  she  asked,  annoyed  at 
this  man's  continual  prying  into  her  affairs. 


I 

THE  VANISHING  SATO  317 

"Has  my  news  traveled  to  you,  Mrs.  Ely?" 

"Your  news  ?" 

Inwardly  she  resented  his  coupling  of  his  own  news  with 
Zudie's. 

"I,  too,  am  soon  to  be  married." 

"How  delightful!"  chimed  Anna,  repressing  any  note  of 
sarcasm  which  might  have  struggled  to  be  heard.  "And 
whom  have  you  made  lucky?" 

"Miss  Otisuki — Miss  Genevieve  Otisuki." 

In  a  flash  Anna  recalled  the  wealthy  land  speculator's 
daughter  who  had  played  Chopin  and  Beethoven  for  her 
in  her  father's  Piedmont  villa;  she  remembered  the  girl's 
insistence  that  she  would  never  marry  a  Japanese.  Also  she 
recalled  how  Mr.  Oki  had  mentioned  Mr.  Otisuki  as  a 
narakin — a  vulgar  fellow,  suddenly  rich  and  swollen  with 
bourgeois  pride. 

"Even  for  so  sweet  and  charming  a  girl,"  she  could  not 
help  saying,  "it  must  be  a  great  advance  in  the  world  to 
marry  so  much  above  her  station." 

Oki  waited  for  that  to  sink  in,  then  his  smile  was  broader 
than  ever. 

"Oh,  no,"  he  admitted.  "So  much  money  is  equal  to 
nobility  anywhere." 

"Weren't  the  great  daimiios  of  Japan  taught  to  despise 
money?"  she  argued. 

"Yes.  But  why?"  His  bright  eyes  snapped  with  the 
question.  "They  got  plenty  of  it — swords  in  those  days — 
plows  in  this.  If  you  got  money  sufficiently  behind  you, 
then  nobility  crops  up  in  the  world.  Same  Japan,  same 
everywhere." 

"Your  country  must  be  changing,"  she  said  thoughtfully 
as  she  bade  him  good-by. 


CHAPTER  XXIX:  A  NOTE  AND  AN  ANSWER 


NEXT  morning  Anna  received  a  night  letter  from  her 
Aunt  Julia  in  New  York,  and  the  message  seemed 
to  settle  everything  in  an  aimless  sort  of  way.  Mrs.  Stan- 
nard  had  always  considered  the  California  venture  queer. 
To  Aunt  Julia  the  queer  was  unforgivable;  not  to  be  queer 
had  been  the  fixed  determination  of  her  sixty  years.  Anna 
had  written  to  her  on  the  day  she  sold  the  farm,  and  she 
had  sent  a  telegram  to  announce  Zudie's  marriage  to  Sid 
Footridge.  That  in  itself  must  have  struck  the  eminently 
conventional  Mrs.  Stannard  as  sufficiently  queer,  for  her 
reply  was  delayed  until  the  Tuesday  which  followed  Anna's 
visit  to  the  Natural  Energy  Fruit  and  Land  Company. 

The  night  letter  was  urgent  and  of  double  length;  and 
though  it  expressed  disapproval  at  the  queerness  of  Zudie, 
it  melted  into  affectionate  entreaties  for  Anna  to  bring  the 
children  home  and  put  Kipps  back  in  the  only  school  that 
Aunt  Julia  thought  fit  for  one  of  her  blood.  There  would 
be  room  for  them  all  in  the  big  house,  the  message  said. 

Anna  read  it  to  the  close,  and  realizing  that  there  was 
no  house  sufficiently  large  to  shelter  her  and  Aunt  Julia 
in  comfort,  she  was  about  to  word  an  affectionate  refusal 
when  a  second  consideration  decided  her  to  show  the  night 
letter  to  Susan  Skelley. 

"New  Yark's  the  place,"  decided  Susan.  "An'  a  bad 
day  it  was  whin  ye  took  th'  childer  to  live  among  thim 
Chinee.  Ef  ye  stay  here  another  week  they'll  git  ye  yet, 
an'  it's  truth  I'm  tellin'  ye.  I've  no  childer  of  me  own, 
Mrs.  Ely,  an'  ef  I  had  they'd  go  no  further  west  than 


A  NOTE  AND  AN  ANSWER  319 

Third  Avenoo,  an'  that  but  wance  a  year.  Yer  Aunt  Julia's 
got  sinse  in  'er  head,  though  few  wud  think  ut." 

Susan  Skelley  cast  the  deciding  vote  for  Anna.  Life  in 
Aunt  Julia's  house  would  be  far  from  an  easy  thing.  It 
was  better  than  the  prune  ranch — that  was  all.  To  endure 
Aunt  Julia  meant  surrendering  all  personality,  taking  the 
crumbs  from  a  grudging  table,  sinking  to  the  level  of  a  poor 
relation.  But  there  were  Kipps  and  Nan  to  be  thought  of. 

Under  Aunt  Julia's  guidance  Anna  could  manage  so  that 
iier  boy  should  be  educated;  her  daughter  destined,  Anna 
was  sure,  to  great  beauty,  would  have  her  rightful  place  in 
the  world.  To  become  a  hanger-on  in  a  set  where  once 
she  had  lived  on  a  lavish  scale  frightened  her  for  just  an 
instant. 

Then  she  dressed  herself  and  prepared  to  seek  out  a 
railroad  ticket  office. 

"Where  you  going,  moms?"  asked  a  treble  voice,  as 
Kipps  plunged  at  her  out  of  the  dimness  of  the  hall. 

"I'm  going  to  the  ticket  office.     Want  to  come  along?" 

"I'll  say  I  do!"  shouted  the  boy,  who  had  chafed  like 
a  caged  animal  under  the  confinement  of  the  hotel.  "But 
say,  moms,  what  do  you  want  at  a  ticket  office?" 

"We're  all  going  back  to  New  York." 

"When?" 

"As  soon  as  we  can  get  accommodations." 

This  kept  Kipps  silent  until  they  had  gone  down  in  the 
elevator  and  were  crossing  the  cheaply  ornamental  lobby. 

"What  are  we  going  back  for?"  he  took  up  the  theme 
as  soon  as  they  had  reached  a  street  corner. 

"You  must  go  to  school  again,"  she  told  him,  and  had  a 
feeling  of  being  on  the  defensive. 

"Where  are  we  going  to  live?"  the  cross-examiner  per 
sisted  as  the  Geary  Street  car  had  stopped  to  take  them 
in. 

"With  Aunt  Julia." 

"Zowie!" 


320  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"Don't  you  want  to  live  with  Aunt  Julia?"  his  mother 
asked,  but  Kipps  was  then  too  busy  getting  her  safely 
aboard  the  car  to  answer. 

When  they  had  settled  in  their  seats  he  took  a  deep 
breath  to  express  his  candid  opinion. 

"Moms,  I  can't  see  this  Aunt  Julia  stuff  a-tall." 

However  Kipps  felt  about  it,  Anna  had  made  up  her 
mind,  and  in  this  the  salesman  at  the  ticket  office  was 
helpful.  He  could  get  them  nothing  on  the  Overland  Lim 
ited  inside  a  week ;  possibly  there  would  be  a  chance  for 
a  drawing-room  and  berth  on  the  slower  Pacific  Limited 
leaving  Thursday  at  one  o'clock.  He  was  the  very  flower 
of  ticket  agents,  a  young  man  who  could  pass  before  a  rack 
the  length  of  a  city  block  and  never  hesitate  until  he  had 
picked  out  the  right  ticket;  a  young  man  who  could  hold 
a  telephone  receiver  between  his  shoulder  and  the  lobe  of 
his  left  ear  while  he  barked  mysterious  numbers  into  the 
mouthpiece  and  never  missed  a  number,  despite  the  fact 
that  other  and  equally  important  ticket  agents  were  walk 
ing  on  his  toes,  gouging  him  in  the  ribs  and  repeating 
comic  anecdotes  into  his  disengaged  ear. 

"For  Thursday  afternoon,  madam,"  announced  the 
prodigy  at  last  as  he  dropped  several  squares  of  cardboard 
and  wisps  of  paper  into  an  envelope. 

While  Anna  was  counting  out  her  money  Kipps  stood 
with  his  inquisitive  gray  eyes  peering  just  over  the  edge  of 
the  counter. 

"Gee!"  he  muttered.  "If  I  had  that  much  dough  I'd 
buy  an  airplane." 

ii 

There  was  little  left  to  do  but  wait  for  Thursday,  but 
Anna  filled  the  first  hours  of  intervening  time  with  further 
efforts  to  see  Mr.  Sato.  To  approach  him,  as  at  first  she 
had  tried,  by  means  of  a  call  at  his  office  seemed  now  quite 
hopeless.  Indeed,  she  repeated  her  attempt  Tuesday  after- 


A  NOTE  AND  AN  ANSWER  321 

noon,  and  was  again  smoothly  passed  from  clerk  to  clerk. 
She  failed  to  reach  as  high  a  point  as  the  vice-president  this 
time.  The  sweetest  Japanese  in  the  world  almost  wept 
when  he  told  her  that  Mr.  Sato  was  not  in. 

Anna  was  too  sensible  a  woman  to  harbor  resentment 
against  the  busy  establishment.  True,  she  had  no  reason  to 
believe  that  Sato  was  not  in.  Should  the  influential  State 
Senator  Ogensbury  appear  again,  she  had  no  doubt  that  he 
would  be  shown  straight  to  Sato's  door. 

"He  out!"  seemed  to  be  the  only  words  of  English  Mr. 
Sato's  clerk  could  say. 

She  heard  this  phrase  often  enough  during  her  second 
visit  to  his  headquarters.  Later  on,  when  at  her  hotel  tele 
phone  she  tried  the  simple  ruse  of  calling  him  by  wire, 
again  she  was  told  "He  out!"  in  many  degrees  of  polite 
ness. 

She  was  unable  to  take  offense  at  any  of  this.  Why 
should  so  important  a  man  as  K.  Sato  bother  with  a  woman 
on  an  entirely  unknown  mission?  If  his  assistants  lied 
amiably,  even  that  was  but  an  act  of  diplomatic  mendacity 
borrowed  from  the  white  man's  books  of  ethics.  Any  man 
of  affairs  on  a  busy  day  would  have  shielded  himself  from 
interruption  just  as  Sato  had  done;  and  Sato  had  a  state 
wide  reputation  for  being  the  most  unapproachable  of  his 
breed. 

She  clung  doggedly  to  her  program,  however,  not  be 
cause  she  hoped  to  come  face  to  face  with  Sato,  but  be 
cause  she  wanted  to  feel  that  she  had  tried  to  do  something 
in  behalf  of  the  poor  Awagas. 

Finally  Anna  relinquished  the  vocal  method  and  consid 
ered  other  means.  Influence,  of  course,  will  take  you  any 
where  if  you  have  the  right  sort.  But  what  influence  could 
Anna  summon  to  open  Sato's  closed  door?  She  thought 
once  of  Tazumi.  He  undoubtedly  could  have  touched  the 
right  button,  but  Tazumi  was  out  of  the  question.  At  last 
she  hit  upon  direct  action,  which  often  succeeds  where  cir- 


SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

cumlocution  fails.    She  wrote  a  letter  to  K.  Sato,  President 
of  the  Natural  Energy  Fruit  and  Land  Company. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Sato:  I  am  writing  to  beg  a  favor.  Will 
you  give  me  a  little  time  that  I  may  explain  a  matter  affect 
ing  the  success  and  happiness  of  two  of  your  own  people? 
I  realize  that  you  are  a  tremendously  busy  man,  and  it  is 
only  because  I  feel  that  great  injustice  might  come  with 
delay  in  this  case  that  I  am  anxious  to  see  you  as  soon  as 
possible. 

"My  business — which  I  could  not  fully  explain  to  your 
subordinates — concerns  S.  Awaga,  pastor  of  the  Japanese 
church  at  Ely.  I  feel  assured  that  I  can  appeal  to  your 
fair-mindedness,  regardless  of  your  faith,  because  you  must 
sympathize  with  this  claim  on  the  part  of  a  humble  coun 
tryman  of  yours ;  and  his  only  offense,  I  assure  you,  consists 
in  his  unselfish  sacrifice  to  his  convictions. 

"Hoping  that  I  may  be  permitted  to  talk  with  you,  how 
ever  briefly " 

Anna  wrote  this  on  the  second-grade  stationery  of  the 
Royalmere,  signed,  sealed  and  addressed  it  and  sent  it  away 
with  the  favor  of  a  special- delivery  stamp. 

The  post  box  had  scarcely  swallowed  up  her  letter  when 
she  was  tempted  to  break  a  Federal  law  and  fish  it  out 
again  at  the  end  of  a  hatpin.  She  had  a  picture  of  her 
plea  being  delivered  to  an  undersecretary  of  the  Natural 
Energy  Fruit  and  Land  Company  to  be  passed  up  the  line, 
possibly  as  far  as  the  desk  of  the  second  vice-president 
There  it  would  flutter  to  the  wastebasket.  Or  possibly  the 
egg-faced  office  boy  opened  the  mail;  in  which  case  her 
letter  would  drop  in  the  first  wastebasket  instead  of  the 
sixth  or  seventh. 

She  wrote  this  letter  on  Tuesday  night.  At  five  o'clock 
Wednesday  afternoon  she  was  just  coming  into  the  shabby 
foyer  of  the  Royalmere  when  a  woman  behind  the  desk 


A  NOTE  AND  AN  ANSWER  323 

leaned  over  and  said,  "Gentleman  in  the  parlor  for  you, 
Mrs.  Ely." 

"Oh!    A  gentleman,  did  you  say?" 

"Japanese  gentleman." 

It  was  too  easy  to  draw  a  conclusion  from  this  announce 
ment.  Sato,  the  mysterious  and  powerful,  had  harkened  to 
her  humble  plea  and  sent  an  envoy  or  come  in  person ! 


in 

The  sitting-room,  a  plush-upholstered  dungeon  on  the 
second  floor,  held  a  solitary  figure  when  Anna  entered  its 
dimly  lighted  depths.  In  the  shadowy  atmosphere  details 
were  obscured,  but  Anna  knew  that  the  neat  little  person 
sitting  so  upright  beside  the  lace  curtains  was  a  Japanese. 
He  rose  and  bowed  ceremoniously  as  she  approached. 

Baron  Tazumi !    And  he  had  taken  her  hand  in  his ! 

Anna  released  his  cold,  silken  fingers,  and  it  was  an 
effort  to  be  civil  to  this  man,  always  courteous,  always 
helpful,  whom  she  had  resolved  never  to  see  again.  His 
manner,  however,  was  so  friendly  and  natural,  so  full  of  his 
former  thoughtfulness  for  her  that  her  qualms  disappeared 
almost  upon  his  first  word. 

"I  am  sorry  to  be  a  little  late,"  he  was  saying  in  the  voice 
of  one  who  has  kept  an  appointment  tardily.  "It  is  almost 
impossible  to  be  punctual  at  this  time  of  day,  when  Market 
Street  is  so  crowded." 

She  had  no  reason  for  being  impolite,  but  do  what  she 
could,  she  was  unable  to  reply.  She  seated  herself  stupidly 
as  he  laid  his  gloves  and  walking  stick  beside  his  pearl-gray 
hat. 

"I  understand  that  little  Zudie  is  married,"  he  said  as 
soon  as  he  had  taken  a  chair.  "I  was  immensely  pleased  to 
hear  that.  A  fine  chap,  Footridge!  A  little  narrow  per 
haps,  but  who  isn't?  And  did  you  get  a  good  price  for 
your  farm?" 


324  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"A  very  good  price,"  said  Anna,  finding  her  voice.  "The 
terms  were  better  than  I  expected." 

"I  am  very  glad  of  that.  I  was  afraid  your  inexperience 
might  lead  you  into  a  bad  bargain.  They  are  very  sharp 
people,  these  land  speculators." 

"I  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble  with  my  Japanese  farmer," 
she  went  so  far  as  to  inform  him.  "His  inefficiency  on  my 
behalf  and  efficiency  on  his  own  made  it  so  that  I  had  to 
sell  to  save  myself." 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Ely !  I  am  wretchedly  sorry  to  hear  that. 
You  should  have  let  us  know." 

Since  when  had  Baron  Tazumi  become  "us"? 

"And  in  the  matter  of  these  Awagas,  Mrs.  Ely,"  he  went 
smoothly  on,  "I  think  you  will  agree  with  me  that  many 
very  estimable  people  can  make  trouble  for  a  whole  com 
munity." 

"Baron  Tazumi,"  Anna  broke  in,  a  suspicion  having  ob 
truded  itself,  "have  you  come  to  me  as  a  representative  of 
the  Natural  Energy  Company?" 

"I  shall  never  come  to  you,  Anna-san,  except  as  a 
friend,"  he  replied,  his  voice  losing  its  overtone  of  polite 
ness  and  reverting  to  an  earnest  bass. 

"I  confess  I  can't  quite  understand,"  admitted  Anna. 
"There  is  no  reason  for  you  to  know  that  I  am  here.  I 
wrote  a  letter  to  Mr.  Sato,  asking  if  he  would  talk  to  me 
about  the  Awagas." 

"My  dear  Anna-san,"  cut  in  Tazumi,  "would  it  please 
you  better  to  talk  to  him  ?" 

"Frankly,"  she  said,  "it  would  phase  me  better." 

"Very  well,"  answered  Baron  Tazumi,  "then  you  have 
your  wish.  You  are  talking  to  him  now." 

He  leaned  a  little  forward  as  though  to  make  himself 
plainer  as  he  added :  "I  am  K.  Sato." 


CHAPTER  XXX:    HENRY  TELLS  HER  WHY 


IT  was  Thursday  morning,  and  the  Bly  trunks  having 
just  been  sent  away,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait 
for  a  quarter  past  eleven,  when  the  taxi  would  come  to 
take  the  little  family  to  the  ferry. 

"What  are  you  doing,  Kipps?"  asked  Anna,  who  had 
been  seated  at  the  window  trying  to  read  by  the  light  which 
sifted  through  imitation  Nottingham  lace. 

"Fixing  my  necktie,"  replied  the  he-boy,  his  angular 
elbows  flopping  before  the  mirror. 

"Please  don't !"  she  begged.  "I  spent  half  an  hour  tying 
it  for  you." 

"There  never  was  a  woman  born,"  declared  the  sage, 
"who  knew  how  to  tie  a  necktie.  See,  moms !  You  don't 
do  it  by  making  a  noose  and  sticking  the  end  through.  You 
pass  it  over  and  round  like  that." 

Kipps  illustrated  his  lecture  by  twisting  the  strip  of  silk 
into  his  own  idea  of  fashion,  which,  though  no  better  than 
his  mother's,  suited  Kipps. 

He  had  on  a  very  new  suit  of  clothes  and  a  pair  of 
bright  tan  shoes  which  squeaked  as  he  walked.  Altogether 
he  looked  the  model  boy. 

"I  don't  like  this  idea  of  dolling  up  every  day,"  he  com 
plained.  "The  minute  we  start  East  I  begin  looking  like  a 
Molly.  I  think  it's  awful  efeminine." 

"It's  what  ?"  asked  Anna,  truly  concerned. 

"Efeminine,"  he  repeated. 

"Where  do  you  pick  up  such  words?" 

325 


326  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"Oh,  I  read  a  great  deal,"  he  informed  her  loftily  as  he 
shook  out  his  new  gray  coat  with  pleats  in  the  back  and 
began  putting  it  on.  After  this  was  done  he  slouched  on 
the  window  sill  and  continued  his  interrogation. 

"What's  the  big  idea  about  our  going  East,  anyhow  ?" 

"Do  you  prefer  California,  dear?"  she  asked  rather 
plaintively. 

"Who  wouldn't?" 

"But  Aunt  Julia  wants  to  put  you  in  school,  Kipps." 

"Aunt  Julia!  She'd  put  me  in  dresses  like  a  girl  if  she 
had  her  way.  Aw,  moms !  I'm  pretty  near  grown  up  any 
way.  I've  got  about  all  the  education  a  man  needs  for  a 
practical  business  life.  I  could  get  a  fine  opening  with 
Dune  Leacy  if  I  wanted  to  strike  out  for  myself." 

"Would  you  strike  out  and  leave  your  mother,  Kipps  ?"  • 

"You  bet  I  wouldn't!"  he  replied  after  what  was  un 
doubtedly  an  inward  struggle.  "And  that's  why  I'm  fol 
lowing  along.  Somebody's  got  to  look  out  for  you,  moms." 

"Come  here  and  kiss  me !" 

The  affectionate  demonstration  was  cut  off  by  a  parrot 
call  from  Susan  Skelley  demanding  to  know  why  Kipps  had 
opened  another  hand  bag  and  what  it  was  he  had  spilled 
across  Nan's  new  shoes. 

"Susan  never  gives  me  a  chance  to  concentrate  on  any 
thing,"  complained  the  young  genius  as  he  passed  into  the 
room  beyond  and  engaged  himself  in  a  violent  argument 
with  his  sister. 


The  hour  dragged  slowly.  Through  the  Royalmere's 
shoddy  curtains  Anna  could  look  down  into  Geary  Street 
and  study  the  ways  of  city-living  Japanese.  Most  of  the 
store  fronts  were  lettered  in  flowing  kana  or  the  more  ele 
gant  characters  borrowed  from  China  centuries  ago. 
Across  the  way  were  several  boarding  houses  with  urbane 
Japanese  passing  in  and  out.  A  little  beyond  these  high- 


HENRY  TELLS  HER  WHY  327 

stooped  houses  a  low  door  was  marked  "Ediths"  in  English 
above  bold  brush  strokes  in  the  island  language. 

From  her  place  at  the  window  she  could  see  a  little  cob 
bler  busily  at  work  shaping  soles  at  a  complicated  electric 
machine,  while  his  partner  rat-tatted  patiently  by  the  door. 
Japanese  women  passed  by,  trundling  gocarts  or  carrying 
children  against  their  shoulders,  their  bodies  swayed  back 
by  the  weight  of  their  young.  A  Japanese  laundry  wagon 
backed  against  the  curb.  It  bore  an  English  name — chosen 
perhaps  to  disguise  its  Oriental  proprietorship.  At  a  cor 
ner  farther  uptown  a  Japanese  bookseller  was  dressing  his 
window  with  tinted  lithographs  of  American  beauties  in  the 
deminude. 

From  her  height  Anna  could  study  the  brown  faces, 
Those  of  the  women  were  as  unwrinkled  as  though  they 
had  been  enameled  with  porcelain;  those  of  the  men  were 
puckered  into  serious  lines.  They  gave  the  appearance 
of  men  worked  until  everything  but  a  lust  for  work  had 
been  driven  from  their  characters — men  born  of  tired 
parents  to  a  heritage  of  hard  ambition.  They  smiled 
mechanically,  they  bowed  mechanically.  Behind  them  stood 
the  invisible  slave  driver,  goading  them  on  to  reclaim  their 
souls  from  an  age-long  bondage. 

"Who  are  the  great  of  the  earth?"  again  the  woman 
asked,  gazing  like  a  disembodied  spirit  down  upon  a  scene 
as  busy  as  any  in  the  little  town  which  she  had  quit  because 
Japan  had  conquered  it  "If  singleness  of  purpose  is  great, 
then  Japan  is  great.  If  patience  to  endure  is  admirable, 
then  Japan  is  admirable.  The  will  to  power " 

The  phrase  struck  cold  upon  her  heart.  Prussia  had 
worshiped  that  thought  before  her  man-made  Valhalla  fell 
and  the  houses  of  the  gods  were  steeped  in  death's  twilight. 

Busily  in  and  out,  under  the  picturesque  signs  which  she 
could  not  read,  dapper  business  men,  smartly  clad  young 
women,  dumpy  matrons  came  and  went.  Every  face  was 


328  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

marked  with  the  expressionless  expression  which  spelled 
"ambition."  Ambition  for  what? 

At  a  second-story  window  across  the  street  a  child  of 
three  appeared  and  peeped  with  elfin  black  eyes  down  upon 
a  problem  equally  insoluble  to  child  or  man,  yellow  or 
white.  The  huge,  swollen  face  of  a  Japanese  woman  came 
into  view  beside  the  inquisitive  head.  For  an  instant  the 
mother  soul  seemed  to  shine  out  through  the  mask  as  her 
heavy  shoulders  drooped  and  her  eyes  were  turned  toward 
the  little  face. 

A  telephone  bell  rang  out  in  Anna's  narrow  room,  urg 
ing  her  away  from  her  thoughts. 

"Mr.  Johnson  calling,"  announced  the  hotel  operator. 

Anna  went  down  to  the  reception  room  to  meet  Henry 
Johnson,  who,  faithful  to  his  trust,  had  come  to  report. 
As  he  rose  before  her  he  looked  starved  and  prophetic  in 
his  shabby  plaid  suit  and  Bohemian  necktie. 

"Omega  has  arrived,"  he  said  in  a  deep  voice. 

"It  isn't  quite  finished,"  she  told  him,  attempting  to 
brighten  his  long,  solemn  face. 

"It  is  the  longest  letter  in  the  alphabet,"  he  replied. 
"According  to  Milton's  inaccurate  account,  it  took  Lucifer 
longer  than  union  hours  to  tumble  from  heaven  to  hell. 
Rome  took  her  time  about  going  to  pieces,  you  will  remem 
ber.  Nothing  stops  all  at  once.  And  in  my  case  I  have 
required  a  number  of  days  to  settle  up  your  affairs  on  the 
ranch." 

Henry's  long  fingers  went  probing  into  a  greasy  vest 
pocket  to  bring  out  various  folded  papers. 

"Your  storage  warehouse  receipt,"  he  announced,  pre' 
senting  the  first  one,  "and  a  receipt  for  your  automobile. 
I  left  it  for  sale,  mentioning  the  price  which  you  required. 
Your  trunks  you  received,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Thank  you,  Henry.     They  came  Saturday." 

"I  am  surprised.  It  all  goes  to  show  that  I  might  suc 
ceed  if  only  I  had  sufficient  will  power  to  keep  my  atten- 


HENRY  TELLS  HER  WHY  329 

tion  on  one  thing  for  a  long  time.  Do  you  know,  Mrs. 
Bly,  that  the  months  I  spent  on  your  farm  represented  the 
longest  time  I  have  ever  stayed  in  one  place  since  I  was 
twenty-five  years  old?" 

She  motioned  him  to  a  chair  and  sat  beside  the  anomaly 
for  whom  she  had  learned  to  feel  an  affectionate  interest. 

"Why  don't  you  get  the  habit,  Henry?" 

"You  mean  sticking  at  things?"  He  laughed  bitterly. 
"Sticking  is  not  meant  for  a  thing  like  me.  Staying  in  one 
place  indicates  a  healthy  mind — I  am  a  diseased  condition, 
Mrs.  Bly.  Two  good  stocks,  never  intended  to  interbreed, 
have  come  together  in  my  poor  soul  and  body.  I  am  like 
a  mongrel  attached  to  a  tin  can — I  try  to  escape  it  by  run 
ning." 

"Henry,"  began  Anna  impulsively,  feeling  that  she  might 
not  see  him  again,  "you  have  always  been  so  bitter  against 
intermarriage.  Do  you  remember  what  you  promised  me  a 
few  weeks  ago?" 

"The  day  you  found  me  making  merry  with  Japanese 
newspapers  ?" 

"Yes.    You  said  you  would  tell  me  why " 

"Why  I  hate  myself,"  Henry  supplied. 

"Was  your  mother  Japanese.  Henry  ?" 

"No,  the  Japanese  was  my  father,"  he  said,  a  rough  note 
coming  into  his  voice. 

"But  your  name's  American." 

"What's  in  a  name?"  He  snapped  his  skinny  fingers  over 
the  Shakespearean  question.  "Henry  Johnson  is  a  ready-to- 
wear  name — easy  to  get,  easy  to  cast  aside.  My  father? 
Oh,  probably  you  have  read  his  name  a  hundred  times  in 
the  newspapers.  You  would  recognize  it  if  I  told  you — 
which  I  shall  not  do." 

"You've  never  explained  anything  about  yourself,"  she 
reminded  him. 

"Why  explain  the  inexplicable?"  he  asked,  but  suddenly 
the  habitual  look  of  sarcastic  humor  fell  away  from  the 


330  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

warring  features  and  his  eyes  were  rilled  with  savage  pathos 
as  he  said,  "My  mother — she  was  an  American.  Do  you 
really  wish  to  know  how  I  came  into  being  ?" 

"So  much!"  replied  Anna. 

"I'll  tell  you  about  her.  It's  rather  a  story — Euripides 
might  have  made  quite  a  decent  tragedy  out  of  my  mother ; 
but  people  don't  tear  out  their  eyes  nowadays.  They  tear 
out  their  hearts  and  get  a  polite  obituary  in  the  morning 
papers.  I'll  leave  my  mother's  story  with  you.  It's  all  I 
have  to  give  in  return  for  your  kindness." 


in 


The  oddly  matched  features  were  stern  as  granite  as  he 
went  on,  "My  mother's  been  dead  a  long  time  now.  She's 
just  another  forgotten  episode  back  in  the  Meiji  epoch. 
My  father,  I  think,  still  says  prayers  to  her  tablet.  It's  a 
delicate  attention,  isn't  it,  to  apologize  to  a  block  of  wood 
after  the  damage  is  done? 

"He's  an  intellectual  man,  my  father,  and  he  belongs  to 
what  in  France  they  would  call  the  small  nobility.  He 
was  one  of  the  first  Japanese  of  position  to  drop  his  preju 
dice  and  go  in  for  money-making.  The  old  nobility,  you 
know,  used  to  regard  merchants  as  something  lower  than 
pawnbrokers.  They  say  in  Japan  to-day  that  our  last  gen 
tleman  died  when  General  Nogi  committed  seppuku,  which 
you  inaccurately  call  hara-kiri.  But  my  father  was  very 
radical  for  a  nobleman.  He  came  to  Boston  nearly  forty 
years  ago,  representing  the  silk  industry;  and  there  he  met 
my  mother. 

"In  Boston,  you  know,  they  are  very  fair-minded  on  the 
subject  of  race.  My  father  became  popular,  and  he  met 
this  pretty  lady,  whose  parents  had  been  abolitionists ;  they 
had  filled  her  with  romance  about  the  dark-skinned  races. 
The  marriage  was  quite  a  natural  thing;  wasn't  it? 


HENRY  TELLS  HER  WHY  331 

"I  remember  my  mother  very  slightly,  because  she  died 
when  I  was  a  small  boy.  I  have  an  impression  of  a  color 
less,  sad  woman  who  wore  her  Japanese  clothes — well,  you 
know  how  Japanese  women  look  when  they  try  to  dress  like 
Americans!  It  must  have  been  a  dog's  life.  She  seemed 
always  to  have  an  apologetic  look,  because  it's  impossible 
for  the  white  woman  to  carry  chains  gracefully  as  the  Jap 
anese  women  do. 

"I  don't  want  to  give  the  impression  that  my  father  is  a 
bad  man.  He  merely  lived  the  life  which  society  required 
of  him.  Had  he  taken  my  mother  with  him  to  dinner 
parties  he  would  have  been  regarded  as  insane.  Public 
dinners  are  for  gentlemen  and  for  women  hired  to  entertain 
them.  Here  in  America  you  would  not  invite  ladies  to  a 
prize  fight,  would  you?  It  was  no  fault  of  my  father's  that 
the  social  system  demanded  that  his  wife  should  be  left  at 
home. 

"It  was  many  years  after  my  mother  died  that  I  began 
to  realize  just  what  had  killed  her.  It  was  what  in  Tokio 
they  call  matrimonial  felicity  and  in  Boston  they  call 
neglect. 

"His  social  obligations  kept  him  away  from  home  most 
of  the  time.  As  ladies  of  quality  were  not  allowed  to 
appear  at  large  public  dinners,  his  feminine  companions 
were  naturally  of  the  geisha  class.  If  my  mother  had  been 
head  of  her  own  household,  as  she  would  have  been  in 
America,  it  might  not  have  been  so  trying.  But  there  was 
always  my  honorable  grandmother  to  rule  the  place  with 
a  rod  of  iron. 

"It  was  the  rod  of  iron  and  the  cord  of  silk  that  killed 
my  mother.  Through  the  thin  partitions  of  my  bedroom 
I  used  to  hear  her  crying  in  the  night.  Once  I  slid  away 
the  panel  and  crept  in  to  her,  and  I  heard  her  praying  to 
a  Christian  God  that  she  might  die  before  another  morning. 
My  grandmother  found  me  there  and  took  care  of  me  after 
that." 


SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"You  loved  your  mother  a  great  deal?"  asked  Anna, 
touched  and  terrified. 

"That,  too,  I  cannot  say.  I  loved  her  dearly  as  a  child. 
Then  as  a  boy  of  twenty,  when  I  realized  what  I  was  and 
renounced  my  father,  I  harbored  a  certain  bitterness  toward 
her.  She  had  been  a  partner  in  the  plot  to  make  me  what 
I  am." 

iv 

His  lank  body  drooped  for  just  an  instant,  then  he 
straightened  up,  a  wild  humor  in  his  eyes. 

"You  remember  the  song  of  the  soldiers :  'Am  I  a  Man 
or  Am  I  a  Mouse?'  Certainly  I  am  a  bad  job  upon  the  face 
of  the  earth.  My  father  sent  me  to  the  university,  and  I 
became  addicted  to  the  fashionable  thing  in  socialism.  The 
Japanese  students  didn't  understand  it,  but  they  delighted 
in  aping  the  white  man's  spirit  of  unrest.  We  plotted  toy 
revolutions  among  ourselves,  and  it  was  well  that  I  joined 
myself  to  the  scum  of  the  earth,  because  my  mixture  of 
blood  made  me  a  despised  thing. 

"At  last  I  cut  away  from  my  father.  I  have  what  you 
call  a  yellow  streak,  and  it  makes  me  hesitate  upon  de 
cisions.  But  one  night  when  I  was  a  little  drunker  than 
usual  I  wrote  him  a  letter  and  renounced  all  relationship  to 
him.  He  had  been  married  again,  and  had  two  sons  by  his 
Japanese  wife,  so  you  see  it  was  easy  enough  for  him  to 
agree  with  me. 

"And  so  my  travels  began,"  he  concluded  with  a  twisted 
smile.  "I've  been  on  the  road  to  Nowhere  ever  since. 
Everything  has  its  purpose  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  Mine 
is  to  serve  as  an  object  lesson." 

"You  should  think  more  of  yourself,"  said  Anna.  "You 
have  a  fine  mind,  and  all  it  needs  is  a  sense  of  direction." 

"You  might  as  well  say  that  I  am  a  fine  automobile,  and 
all  I  need  is  a  new  engine.  Do  you  know  what  Herbert 
Spencer  said  about  me,  possibly  before  I  was  born  ?" 


HENRY  TELLS  HER  WHY  333 

"I  can't  imagine." 

"He  wrote  a  letter  to  a  white  man  living  in  Japan  and 
warned  him  against  the  intermarriage  of  whites  and  Jap 
anese.  Hybrids,  he  said,  are  usually  inferior.  Nature  rebels 
against  bad  mixtures  of  breed  just  as  much  in  the  human  / 
species  as  in  the  case  of  sheep  or  cattle.  If  you  don't 
believe  it,  look  at  me." 

"So  you  have  decided  to  go  wandering  again,"  she  mused 
after  a  kindly  glance  at  the  unsuccessful  experiment. 

"I  have  taken  passage  on  the  Shinyo  Maru" 

"When  does  it  leave?" 

"Next  week." 

"It  may  be  a  long  time  before  we  see  each  other  again," 
said  Anna  when  they  were  shaking  hands. 

"We  shall  never  meet  again,"  he  declared.  "I  am  re 
turning  to  my  father's  country  to  start  a  revolution  on 
Christian  principles.  I  have  planned  to  strike  against  the 
Mikado,  a  false  god  whom  the  Genro  have  raised  cynically 
to  fool  all  the  people  all  the  time.  Until  we  have  ceased 
to  worship  the  Emperor — a  god  of  flesh — we  can  never 
hope  to  talk  on  equal  terms  with  the  modern  world." 

"Are  you  entirely  satisfied  with  the  modern  world?"  she 
asked. 

"No.  It  has  behaved  very  badly,  but  it  has  a  hope." 
The  prophetic  look  came  back  into  his  long  face  as  he 
said:  "If  it  could  learn  of  Japan  as  Japan  has  learned  of 
it!" 

He  stood  there  squinting  his  flat  gray  eyes  and  lingering 
over  his  final  message. 

"I  have  said  too  much  about  the  faults  of  Japan.  Let 
the  Japanese  in  me  speak  about  America.  If  you  had 
studied  my  little  half  brothers  instead  of  hating  them  you 
might  know  by  now  how  to  save  the  soil  of  California. 
Long  hours,  economical  lives,  safe  investments — see  how 
they  have  studied  'Poor  Richard's  Almanac'  while  American 
labor  has  been  joy-riding  between  radical  meetings.  The 


334  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

Japanese  is  not  afraid  to  be  poor  a  few  years  in  order  to 
be  prosperous  a  long  time.  Perhaps  the  Japanese  do  not 
deserve  a  share  of  California,  but  you  can't  deny  that  they 
work  for  what  they  get." 

Henry  Johnson  held  out  his  hand,  and  all  his  elfin  humor 
had  returned. 

"What  a  wonderful  thrift-stamp  campaigner  I  would 
make,"  he  grinned,  and  took  his  departure  toward  his 
shabby  destiny. 


CHAPTER  XXXI:    EASTWARD  BOUND 


THE  taxicab  which  was  to  bear  them  to  the  ferry  was 
Jate,  of  course,  and  the  trip  down  Market  Street  was 
embittered  by  Susan  Skelley's  dark  predictions.  Of  course 
they'd  lose  the  boat,  she  pointed  out,  and  again  they  would 
be  thrown  upon  the  tender  mercies  of  "thim  dirty  Chinees 
and  thim  winds  that  fair  tear  the  hair  off  ye/'  To  Susan 
every  train  was  met  on  Friday  the  thirteenth  and  every  rail 
road  schedule  was  a  book  of  evil  tidings. 

At  the  foot  of  Market  Street  the  ferry  clock  assured 
them  that  it  was  a  quarter  to  one,  and  they  had  time  to 
spare;  but  the  situation  was  complicated  by  Nan's  getting 
herself  lost  in  a  press  of  pedestrians  going  in  exactly  the 
wrong  direction.  Susan  effected  a  rescue,  however,  and 
two  burly  porters  took  charge  of  the  family  luggage. 

Anna  had  seized  hold  of  Kipps — the  latter  loudly  protest 
ing  that  he  was  too  old  to  be  treated  like  a  baby — and  Susan 
was  convoying  Nan  through  the  jumbled,  hurrying  crowd, 
when  Kipps  stopped  in  his  tracks,  upsetting  an  Italian 
laborer  and  his  magnificent  blanket  roll. 

"You  see  not'ing  where  you  go  ?"  snarled  the  hot-blooded 
victim  of  Kipps'  perversity,  and  Anna  was  formulating  an 
apology  when  her  attention  was  diverted  by  the  boy's  ear- 
splitting  yell. 

"Hello,  Dune !    Here  we  are,  Dune !    Aw,  hur-ee  up !" 

Dune  Leacy,  looking  like  a  traveling  millionaire  in  his 
sport  coat  and  cap,  was  shouldering  his  way  through  the 
mob,  and  as  he  came  up  he  winked  at  Kipps  and  roared: 
"Seems  to  me  you're  taking  pretty  poor  care  of  your 

335 


336  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

mother,  sonny.  Here's  a  hole  in  the  air.  Let  me  give  you 
a  lift,  Nannie.  There  you  are !" 

That  was  all  his  explanation.  Anna,  torn  between  an. 
impulse  to  run  away  and  a  desire  to  make  her  train,  found 
herself  submitting  without  a  word  to  Dune  Leacy's  unin 
vited  management.  In  all  the  hurly-burly 'she  had  no  time 
to  ask  how,  when  or  why  he  had  come.  She  satisfied  her 
self  with  the  sight  of  his  broad  shoulders,  upon  which  Nan 
rode  triumphant  through  the  crowd.  What  a  picture  they 
made — the  big,  clean-looking  man  and  her  little  girl,  whose 
quiet  beauty  was  always  a  joy! 

He  set  his  decorous  burden  down  as  soon  as  they  had 
reached  convenient  benches  in  the  waiting-room  upstairs, 
and  all  that  time  his  face  was  a  puzzle. 

"Baggage  all  right,  Anna?"  he  asked  in  his  matter-of-fact 
tone. 

"I  don't  know — please  don't  bother  about  it/'  she  begged 
none  too  cordially. 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  he  exclaimed  in  his  usual  self-disparage 
ment. 

Whereupon  he  strode  among  the  throng  and  was  gone 
in  search  of  the  porters.  Anna  was  given  little  time  to 
delve  into  the  enigma  of  his  presence  when  he  came  back 
smiling. 

"How  many  pieces  in  your  band  wagon  ?"  he  asked  cheer 
fully. 

"Eleven,"  Kipps  spoke  up  promptly. 

"All  right,"  he  sang  out ;  "the  count's  correct." 

His  eyes  kept  wandering  wistfully  over  to  Anna,  but 
he  seemed  to  find  no  responsive  spark  there,  for  he  looked 
more  serious  when  he  asked:  "What  decided  you  to  go 
all  in  a  rush  like  this  ?" 

"I  didn't  know  that  we  were  in  a  rush,"  she  answered 
coolly. 

"I've  been  scouring  the  town  for  you,"  he  grunted.  "I've 
exhausted  all  the  registers  in  the  big  hotels  and  quizzed 


EASTWARD  BOUND  337 

£very  living  being  that  I  thought  would  know  anything 
about  you.    It  wasn't  till  this  morning  that  I  got  a  trace." 

"Where?"  she  asked  in  the  same  guarded  tone. 

"Baron  Tazumi,"  said  he,  and  his  voice  betrayed  his 
dislike. 

When  Susan  had  led  Kipps  and  Nan  nearer  to  the  big 
door  which  was  soon  to  slide  open  she  unbent  sufficiently 
to  ask:  "Why  did  you  want  to  see  me  now?" 

"You  stole  away  from  Ely  without  a  sign,"  he  muttered. 
"I  found  the  house  gutted  of  furniture  and  a  tribe  of  Jap 
anese  looking  it  over.  It  wasn't  right  to  me,  Anna.  Why 
don't  you  ever  tell  me  anything?" 

She  held  her  peace,  and  he  went  on:  "Couldn't  you  at 
least  have  let  me  know  you  were  going  East  so  soon?'* 

"I  might  have,"  she  agreed  noncommittally. 

"Anna,  you've  got  to  marry  me,"  he  said  quietly. 

"What?"  she  asked,  as  if  she  hadn't  heard. 

"Marry  me,"  he  repeated  distinctly,  so  distinctly  that  she 
was  ashamed  and  looked  away. 
I    "It's  too  late  to  talk  about  that,  Dune." 

"Why?" 
,     "There  are  a  great  many  reasons." 

"What  sort  of  reasons?" 

"I'm  going  East  in  a  very  few  minutes.  I  intend  to  stay 
there." 

"Have  you  got  your  tickets  ?" 

This  seemed  a  sordid  question  to  be  thrown  into  his  song 
of  despair. 

"Right  here  in  my  bag." 

"You  haven't  any  objection  to  my  seeing  them,  have 
you  ?"  he  asked  in  a  tone  which  savored  of  a  command. 

"Certainly  not." 

But  she  made  no  move  toward  her  bag. 

"There  have  been  two  or  three  schedule  changes  this 
week,"  he  explained,  holding  out  his  hand.  "It  might  be 
just  as  well  if  I  looked  them  over." 


338  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

She  brought  out  a  Southern  Pacific  envelope  and  per 
mitted  him  to  examine  the  accordion-pleated  length  of 
pasteboard  and  the  brilliant  paper  coupons. 

"I  thought  so !"  he  grunted,  and  dropped  the  envelope  in 
his  pocket 

"Anything  wrong  with  them,  Dune?'*  she  asked,  made 
nervous  by  his  manner. 

"Wrong!" 

His  thick  eyebrows  gathered  to  a  frown  as  he  asked  sud 
denly  :  "At  least  you'll  permit  me  to  see  you  to  the  train  ?" 

"It's  very  kind  of  you,  Dune,"  she  allowed.  "Please  tell 
me  about  those  tickets.'* 

"I'll  have  to  straighten  that  business  out,"  he  answered 
gruffly.  "You  keep  the  party  together  and  I'll  take  care 
lings." 

An  b  -.ant  later  he  disappeared  down  the  steep  stairway. 

ii 

He  had  asked  her  to  marry  him!  Realization  of  this 
came  slowly  to  Anna's  numbed  senses.  He  had  arrived  too 
late  with  an  avowal  which  a  few  weeks  ago  would  have 
meant  heaven  to  her.  What  had  occurred  to  have  brought 
him  so  suddenly  to  her  feet  ?  Had  the  black-eyed  girl  from 
Oroville  refused  him  and  sent  him  out  into  the  world  to 
seek  what  consolation  he  could  find? 

Anna's  heart  was  still  bitter  with  the  things  he  had  said 
and  the  looks  he  had  given  her  at  their  angry  parting  in 
Sacramento.  Even  in  her  rage  she  saw  his  shining  virtues, 
but  they  were  tainted  with  faults  she  could  never  forgive. 
And  he  had,  after  taking  a  year  of  her  heart,  asked  her 
to  marry  him! 

Anna  was  wakened  from  her  reverie  by  the  urgent  voice 
of  Kipps. 

"Moms,  they're  opening  the  door  to  the  ferry !" 

Plainly  enough  Anna  could   see  the  great   door  being 


EASTWARD  BOUND  339 

rolled  back  majestically  to  reveal  a  wide  passage  through 
which  travelers  were  crowding  toward  the  one  o'clock  boat. 

"We'll  be  late !"  wailed  Susan  Skelley,  taking  a  ghoulish 
delight  in  the  evil  prediction. 

"What's  holding  us,  moms  ?"  Kipps  was  saying,  but  Anna 
stood  irresolute. 

"Mr.  Leacy  has  taken  the  tickets  somewhere  to — oh, 
there  he  comes!" 

A  fawn-colored  overcoat  could  be  seen  among  the 
throng.  But  as  it  came  near  Anna  saw  that  it  encased  a 
stout  gentleman  of  Teutonic  cast. 

"We'll  miss  the  boat !"  she  lamented  softly. 

"Of  coorse  we  will,"  agreed  Susan  almost  cheerfully. 

"Dune's  got  the  tickets,"  decided  Kipps,  "and  he'll  make 
good  all  right.  He  always  does." 

The  boyish  faith  apparently  was  built  on  sand.  The 
crowd  had  passed  through  the  broad  door  and  thinned  out 
alarmingly  when  Anna,  after  beseeching  her  little  party  to 
stay  together,  hurried  downstairs  to  find  the  man  who  had 
never  before  proved  false  to  his  trust.  Another  crowd  had 
formed  in  the  waiting-room  below,  but  in  all  its  varied 
costuming  she  could  see  nothing  which  resembled  Dune 
Leacy's  vivid  overcoat.  What  could  have  become  of  him? 

Panic  now  claimed  her  for  its  own.  The  clock  had  just 
jumped  its  larger  hand  another  space  forward  to  point  a 
minute  before  the  hour  of  one.  Anna  stood  irresolute,  not 
knowing  whether  to  take  her  family  aboard  the  boat  or  to 
wait  her  chances  here. 

Somewhere  a  voice  was  chanting  monotonously  to  warn 
the  world  that  all  should  be  aboard.  Belated  passengers 
were  going  at  an  undignified  run  toward  the  open  door. 
Anna's  eyes  searched  helplessly  for  any  trace  of  Dune 
Leacy.  The  stragglers  passed  in  review. 

At  last  two  roustabouts  on  the  lower  level  began  sliding 
the  big  door  back  upon  its  lock.  The  minute  hand  had 


340  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

jumped  to  one  o'clock.  Out  in  the  ferry  slip  a  deep- 
throated  whistle  roared  farewell. 

Anna's  party  had  missed  the  train,  and  it  was  Dune 
Leacy's  fault! 

At  that  instant  she  caught  sight  of  him  through  the  steel- 
wire  partition.  A  porter  had  just  dumped  the  Ely  baggage 
on  the  flagstones,  and  Dune,  jauntily  puffing  a  cigarette,  was 
handing  a  dollar  bill  to  the  obviously  pleased  menial.  He 
paused  for  a  moment  to  chat  with  the  man  and  exchange 
a  joke  or  two.  It  was  plain  to  see  that  Dune  Leacy  had  not 
a  worry  in  the  world. 

He  came  leisurely  through  the  gate,  his  every  movement 
expressing  indifference  to  the  passage  of  time.  An  indul 
gent  smile  was  on  his  lips.  He  threw  away  his  cigarette 
and  removed  his  cap  with  a  gesture  which  intimated  that 
he  was  meeting  her  for  the  first  time  that  day. 

"Where  have  you  been  ?"  she  asked  rudely. 

"Looking  out  for  your  baggage,  Anna,"  he  replied  in  an 
innocent  tone.  "I've  got  it  all  safe  for  you.  You  can  count 
it." 

Indeed  he  indicated  the  extensive  pile  jumbled  against 
the  wire  partition. 

"I  see  you  have,"  she  agreed. 

"I've  been  engaging  porters  in  two  shifts  to  look  out 
for  it.  Watch  on,  watch  off." 

"What  for?"  she  asked  sharply. 

"Well,  you  see  there  are  a  great  many  pieces.  I  often 
wonder  why  people  need  so  much  baggage." 

A  great  silence  had  fallen  over  the  station.  There  were 
no  more  passengers  to  clamor  round  the  big  door.  The 
newly  arrived  crowd  had  settled  on  the  benches  to  wait. 
The  gate  was  tight  shut  on  all  chances  of  making  the  one 
o'clock  boat,  which  was  to  meet  the  East-bound  train.  At 
the  head  of  the  stairs  Anna  could  see  Kipps  coming  down 
to  impart  the  news  she  already  knew  too  well. 

"You've  made  us  miss  our  train !"  cried  Anna. 


EASTWARD  BOUND  341 

"I  thought  I  would,"  said  Dune,  and  his  words  came  like 
a  sigh. 

"Dune  Leacy,  I  know  you're  not  stupid  enough  to  make  a 
mistake  like  this.  Just  what  are  you  trying  to  do?" 

"Didn't  you  know?"  he  asked  with  a  certain  childish 
sweetness. 

"I  think  I  deserve  an  explanation." 

"Oh,  that's  easy  enough,"  he  smiled.  "I'm  keeping  you 
in  San  Francisco." 

Color  surged  in  Anna's  cheeks ;  she  couldn't  speak. 

"You've  got  to  give  me  a  chance  to  talk  to  you,"  he  de 
clared,  and  he  wore  the  look  of  a  man  who  would  not  be 
denied. 


CHAPTER  XXXII:  PRESIDIO  HILLS 


JUST  what  happened  in  the  hours  directly  following  the 
train-losing  episode  neither  Kipps  nor  Susan  Skelley 
could  make  out.  Dune  Leacy's  stocks  went  down  several 
points  in  Kipps'  regard,  but  they  could  suffer  such  a  de 
pression  and  still  remain  above  par.  The  boy  had  the  feel 
ing  which  had  once  tortured  him  when  the  New  York 
Giants  fell  in  their  final  struggle  for  the  pennant.  They 
couldn't  be  great  all  the  time,  and  they  would  come  up 
better  than  ever  upon  their  next  trial. 

Susan  Skelley  rode  silently  back  to  the  Royalmere. 
Dune's  behavior  merely  strengthened  her  theory  that  all 
Californians  were  more  or  less  insane.  She  felt,  too,  that 
"thim  Chinees"  were  lurking  somewhere  behind  the  fiasco. 
Worse  than  that,  Susan  was  far  from  approving  her  mis 
tress'  behavior,  for  the  Blys  had  scarcely  finished  their 
luncheon  when  Anna  Ely,  quite  without  explanation,  went 
forth  to  spend  the  afternoon  in  Dune  Leacy's  car. 

Anna,  true  to  her  appointment  to  talk  it  out  with  Dune 
Leacy,  was  almost  as  much  at  sea  as  Kipps  and  Susan.  She 
stepped  into  the  he-man's  car  feeling  that  she  should  have 
been  very  angry,  which  she  was  not.  He  had  tricked  her 
shamelessly,  to  be  sure;  but  he  carried  it  off  with  such  a 
high  hand  that  Anna,  seated  silently  beside  his  busy  wheel, 
had  scarce  passed  ten  city  blocks  when  she  began  to  think 
that  he  had  done  nothing  more  than  exercise  his  just  au 
thority. 

It  was  a  beautiful  afternoon,  mild  and  sweet.  There 
was  more  languor  in  the  air  than  is  customary  in  a  city 

342 


PRESIDIO  HILLS  843 

where  trade  winds  blow  to  stimulate  more  trade.  As  the 
car  rolled  merrily  up  the  Sutter  Street  grade  Anna  could 
see  San  Francisco's  happy  polyglots — Japanese,  Italians, 
Germans,  Greeks — gazing  dreamily  from  the  windows  of 
their  shops.  Little  girls  of  every  nationality  but  American 
played  hop-scotch  on  the  sidewalks;  their  brothers  risked 
their  necks  on  scooters  and  bicycles,  coasting  down  the 
steep  hills. 

The  man  and  woman  said  very  little  during  that  west 
ward  drive.  His  clear  gray  eyes,  glued  on  the  road  ahead, 
seemed  lost  in  speculation.  She  wanted  to  ask  him  what 
he  was  thinking  about  to  bring  that  softened  look  into  his 
rugged  face. 

When  they  had  passed  the  cemetery  wall  at  the  top  of 
the  grade  he  turned.  At  California  Street  they  turned 
again  to  the  west.  And  now  they  were  speeding  between 
long  rows  of  pretty  houses,  each  with  its  garage  door  fac 
ing  on  the  street  to  make  it  look  like  a  diminutive  fire 
station.  She  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  white  fagade  with 
daintily  curtained  windows,  and  in  the  glimpse  she  remem 
bered  the  Korean  woman  who  had  summoned  her  in  the 
fear  that  all  Tazumi's  households  might  be  slain.  She  won 
dered  if  Miss  Kim  would  remain  all  her  little  life  in  that 
pretty  jail. 

The  road  sank  into  a  winding  boulevard  between  hand 
some  houses  which  clung  like  fish  hawks'  nests  on  the  cliffs 
above  the  sea.  The  Pacific!  How  graciously  it  feathered 
its  tide  against  purple  rocks  upon  which  the  sun,  already 
filmed  by  low-lying  fog,  displayed  its  broad  benevolence. 

The  shaggy  hills  of  the  Presidio  lay  before  them,  rich 
and  rugged  like  one  of  old  Leonardo's  splendid  back 
grounds.  The  steep  promontory  was  a  tumbled  mass  of 
wind-blown  cypress,  of  brown  shrubs  and  of  silvery  wild 
grass  which  rippled  in  imitation  of  the  sea  below.  Hills 
that  in  spring  had  been  glorious  with  blue  iris  and  yellow 
lupine  were  now  the  color  of  softly  burnished  metal — old 


S44  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

gold,  old  silver,  old  copper.  Up  the  tortuous  road  they 
wound,  up  between  wind-twisted  trees  and  shrubs. 

At  the  very  summit,  just  at  the  point  where  the  road 
seems  to  hang  like  a  wind-blown  streamer  above  the  racing 
waves,  Dune  Leacy  stopped  his  car  and  said,  "There's  a 
place  up  there  where  we  can  be  out  of  the  wind." 

She  followed  submissively  until  he  had  found  a  hollow 
sweet  with  grasses  a  few  yards  above  the  road.  From  that 
quiet  vantage  the  eye  could  look  far*  out  to  sea  along  the 
sparkling  procession,  hurrying  forever  toward  the  sunset. 
Above  their  heads  the  ugly  snout  of  a  great  gun  pointed 
across  the  Pacific.  Out  of  the  mist  a  graceful  steamer, 
black  of  hull  and  white  of  superstructure,  was  cleaving  the 
waves  toward  the  Golden  Gate.  On  her  smokestacks  the 
insignia  of  a  Japanese  line  could  be  discerned. 

Anna  sat  for  a  long  time,  wondering  if  Dune  would  ever 
speak,  and  if  so  what  his  first  words  would  be. 


u 

"Anna,"  he  said  at  last,  "do  you  really  want  to  go  away 
from  all  this?" 

"It  isn't  what  I  want/'  she  answered  without  looking  at 
him.  "My  life  hasn't  been  guided  by  that." 

"Do  you  think  it  was  honest  to  go  without  telling  me?" 

"Honest?"  She  looked  at  him  now,  and  was  uncertain 
as  to  the  motive  of  his  question  as  she  added :  "What  you 
did  at  the  station  wasn't  exactly  puritanical,  I  should  say." 

"Perhaps  not."  He  looked  out  to  sea  and  seemed  to  be 
thinking  that  point  over.  "I'm  a  business  man,  Anna,  and 
when  it's  a  matter  of  collecting  a  bill  I  take  the  best  prac 
tical  means." 

She  turned  in  amazement  to  encounter  that  same  odd 
look. 

"I  suppose  you've  forgotten,  Anna,  how  much  you  owe 
me,"  he  said  gruffly. 


PRESIDIO  HILLS  345 

"Far  from  it,"  she  replied.  "I  owe  you  a  great  many 
favors.  I  don't  want  you  to  think  I've  forgotten  them. 
If  you  want  a  brokerage  for  your  share  in  saving  my 

''Holy  snakes!"  he  bellowed.  "Fve  forgotten  all  about 
that  I  You  owe  me  a  lot  more  than  that,  Anna !" 

"If  you're  a  business  man,"  she  said,  "why  not  be  more 
specific?" 

"Do  you  remember  a  bet  we  once  made?" 

Anna  had  not  forgotten,  but  she  must  be  reminded. 

"You  remember,"  he  persisted,  "that  I  bet  you  would 
agree  with  me  about  the  Japanese?  The  terms,  as  I  recall 
them,  were  a  carload  of  asparagus  against " 

"How  do  you  know  I  agree  with  you  about  the  Jap 
anese?"  she  temporized. 

"Do  you  still  think  they're  a  maligned  and  persecuted 
race?" 

She  made  no  reply. 

"Do  you  still  think  they're  a  blessing  to  the  state  of  Cali 
fornia?"  he  asked  insistently. 

She  remained  silent,  her  eyes  on  the  light  buoy  far  be 
low. 

"Because  if  you  do/'  he  urged,  "you'd  better  give  me 
your  address  so  that  I  can  have  the  grass  shipped  to  you." 

"I  don't  want  asparagus — as  much  as  that,"  she  whis 
pered. 

In  an  instant  the  winner  was  collecting  his  bet.  He 
took  a  long  time  to  it,  and — to  be  candid — he  collected 
usuriously,  for  Anna,  as  we  must  recall,  had  staked  one  kiss 
— no  more — against  Dune  Leacy's  vegetables. 

But  now  the  hour  had  struck,  and  Anna  Bly  clung  to  the 
man  she  had  wanted  without  admitting  her  want. 

"I've  loved  you  so!"  he  kept  repeating. 

"Dune,  my  dear  boy,  why  didn't  you  ever  tell  me  this 
before?" 


346  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

The  question  brought  him  back  to  earth  long  enough  to 
give  her  a  puzzled  look  as  he  asked :  "Haven't  I  ?" 

"Dune,  dear,  there  were  a  hundred  times  when  I  could 
have  cried  on  your  shoulder  and  begged  you  to  take  me 
away !" 

"Is  that  so?" 

He  stared  at  her,  quite  apparently  astounded  at  this  piece 
of  news. 

"I  haven't  any  parlor  tricks,  Anna,"  he  said  at  last.  "I'm 
a  blundering  jackass  when  it  comes  to  saying  the  things  a 
man  ought  to  say  to  a  lady.  But  I  thought  you  understood. 
Somehow  or  other  I  was  conceited  enough  to  think  we'd 
settled  something  between  us." 

Her  hand  went  over  to  his,  because  his  look  had  become 
sad  as  his  eyes  followed  the  sparkling  procession  of  waves. 

"You've  never  told  me,  Dune,"  she  whispered.  "What's 
been  the  trouble?" 

"I've  been  pretty  close  to  the  rocks  myself,  Anna." 

"Dune!" 

He  pulled  his  cap  over  his  ears  and  clapped  a  palm  down 
on  his  knee  as  he  always  did  before  an  argument. 

"I'm  a  business  man,  Anna — a  business  man  and  an 
engineer.  I  don't  suppose  you  know  what  I've  been  up 
against  down  there  on  the  island.  All  the  time  I  was 
hanging  round  your  farm  the  worry  was  driving  me  dis 
tracted." 

"Poor  Dune!"  she  said,  and  stroked  his  capable  hand, 
wondering  what  could  have  kept  him  aloof  so  long. 

"Every  time  I  came  over  to  Ely  I  was  on  the  point  of 
asking  you.  Then  the  hard  fact  would  show  up  and  come 
between  you  and  me.  I  realized  how  things  stood.  It 
would  have  been  a  crime  to  have  asked  you  to  marry  a 
bankrupt." 

"Why,  Dune,  you  are  celebrated  all  over  the  state  as  the 
most  progressive  farmer  on  the  delta!" 

"That's  it.     I  got  proud  and  haughty  about  my  reputa- 


PRESIDIO  HILLS  347 

tton,  and  wanted  to  own  the  earth.  I  bought  out  nine  hun 
dred  acres  of  pear  orchard  on  the  other  side  of  the  island. 
I've  mortgaged  my  crop  three  years  now  to  hang  on.  It 
would  have  been  an  easy  deal  to  swing  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
labor — that's  what's  been  gouging  me  blind.  This  year  I 
saw  myself  going  under  and  under.  Then  luck  struck 
again." 

"You  got  your  money  back  on  crops  ?"  she  asked. 

"No,  real  estate.  Do  you  remember  the  time  I  took  a 
trip  to  Mr.  Bowen's  place  in  Oroville?" 

How  well  Anna  remembered  it!  In  her  heart  she  was 
resolved  never  to  let  him  know  how  jealous  she  had  been, 
but  she  allowed  herself  to  inquire:  "You  mean  the  time 
you  went  to  see  the  father  of  that  girl  with  the  black  eyes  ?" 

"The  girl  with  the  black  eyes?  Oh,  yes,"  he  acknowl 
edged,  dismissing  Miss  Bowen  forever.  "Anyhow,  I  got 
rid  of  half  my  pear  orchards  at  double  their  original  price. 
Bowen  and  I  closed  last  week.  I'd  hardly  got  his  check  in 
my  pocket  before  I  streaked  back  to  Sacramento  to  see 
you." 

"You  wouldn't  have  sold  to  the  Japanese,  would  you?" 
she  questioned,  looking  guiltily  into  his  eyes. 

"No,  dear  girl." 

"And  you  still  blame  me  for  the  way — the  way  I  took 
a  bribe  from  the  Mikado,  as  you'd  say?" 

"I  was  a  fool  to  be  cross  with  you  about  that.  But  when 
I  met  you  that  morning  my  hopes  were  higher  than  the 
moon.  All  the  way  down  from  Oroville  I  was  working  on 
a  plan  to  take  your  place  over  and  make  it  pay.  We  could 
have  stuck  it  out  together,  Anna.  But  I  see  the  fix  you 
were  in.  How  could  you  have  understood  the  game  as  I 
did?" 

He  paused  as  though  the  question  had  suggested  the  one 
that  followed. 

"Say,  Anna,  what  was  Tazumi's  share  in  that  transac 
tion?" 


548  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

"I  don't  think  he  was  directly  responsible  for  getting  me 
out  of  Ely,"  said  Anna.  "I — I  had  a  long  talk  with  him 
the  other  day.  He's  doing  business  under  the  name  of  K. 
Sato,  you  know." 

"That's  the  general  opinion,"  admitted  Dune.  "But  don't 
hold  that  against  him.  Titled  men  of  every  race  use  ob 
scure  family  names  for  business." 

"I  wanted  to  see  Sato  about  the  preacher  at  Ely.  The 
Buddhists,  it  seems,  are  forcing  the  Awagas  out.  So  I 
wrote  a  letter  to  K.  Sato,  and  who  should  call  but  Baron 
Tazumi." 

"One  of  these  unofficial  official  calls.    What  did  he  say?" 

"Dune,  I  have  detested  Tazumi  for  a  long  time.  I've 
never  told  you  this — how  could  I  ?  But  Tazumi  wanted  me 
to  marry  him,  and  once — once — oh,  Dune !" 

She  hid  her  frightened  eyes  against  his  shoulder  and 
heard  him  say,  "You  almost  gave  in,  didn't  you,  Anna?" 

"God  must  have  saved  me  from  it,"  she  replied.  "A 
Korean  woman  told  me  enough  to  open  my  eyes.  I  hoped 
cever  to  see  him  again.  But  after  I  had  talked  with  him 
the  other  day  I  didn't  know  what  to  think.  We  discussed 
his  religion  and  mine.  He  didn't  try  to  be  smooth  or  elusive 
or  diplomatic.  I  don't  believe  anybody  could  have  been 
more  candid." 

"What  did  he  say?"  repeated  Dune  Leacy. 

"He  said  he  was  sorry  about  the  trouble  on  my  farm, 
and  that  he  would  have  made  things  easier  for  me  if  I 
had  told  him.  He  said  that  all  the  Bly  region  had  to  be 
Japanese;  that  my  farm  was  a  keystone  to  an  arch  of  land 
that  had  to  be  held  solidly  together.  He  said  that  the 
Japanese  were  moving  in  America,  just  as  they  were  mov 
ing  in  Manchuria  and  Siberia,  to  gain  control  of  the  land 
that  was  to  make  them  a  great  people  upon  earth.  He  said 
that  he,  as  Tazumi,  was  merely  an  agent  in  the  hands  of  a 
divine  power." 


PRESIDIO  HILLS  349 

"Did  he  mention  the  name  of  his  divine  power?"  asked 
Leacy. 

"Oh,  yes.  He  said,  It  is  my  Emperor,'  and  when  I 
asked  him  if  he  thought  the  Emperor  was  divine  he  replied, 
'I  don't  think  it— I  know  it/  " 

"Dune,"  went  on  Anna,  "you  should  have  been  there  to 
feel  as  I  did  about  Tazumi.  It  didn't  seem  to  be  the  talk 
of  a  small  man  clattering  off  a  lot  of  propaganda  he  had 
learned  by  heart.  He  hasn't  any  of  our  standards,  either 
moral  or  social.  But  according  to  his  own  standards  he's  a 
very  noble  gentleman.  It's  not  money  for  himself  or  power 
for  himself  that  he  wants.  He's  giving  his  life  for  an 
ideal  just  as  surely  as  the  little  Awagas  are  doing  the  same 
thing  in  their  shabby  church  at  Ely." 

"What  did  he  say  when  you  asked  him  to  save  the 
Awagas  ?" 

"He  said  he'd  use  all  his  influence  to  help  them,"  replied 
Anna.  "And,  Dune,  do  you  know,  I  think  he'll  keep  his 
word?" 

Leacy  sat,  his  hands  clasped  across  his  knees  and  in 
dulged  himself  in  reflection. 

"I  often  think,"  he  concluded,  "that  Tazumi's  a  pretty 
big  man." 

iii 

They  were  sitting  close  together  in  the  cup  of  a  high 
hill,  the  deep  Pacific  swelling  below  like  an  enchanted  arch 
between  Orient  and  Occident. 

"Dune,"  said  Anna  out  of  the  silence,  "I  lived  with  Alec 
over  eight  years.  We  must  have  been  very  close  together." 

"Eight  years  is  a  long  time,"  he  replied. 

"And  yet — I  hope  it  isn't  wrong  for  me  to  ask  it.  But 
why  is  it  that  I  feel  this  way  toward  you,  Dune?  I'm 
almost  thirty.  I've  lived  a  lifetime  already,  and  loved 
another  man  as  much  as  I  thought  I  could  love  anybody. 
Why  is  it  I  have  the  feeling  of  something  new  and  won 
derful  in  the  world  ?  How  am  I  able  to  love  you  more  than 


350  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

anybody — anybody  I  have  ever  known?"  Tears  filled  her 
eyes ;  her  voice  was  very  low. 

"It's  because  we're  grown  up,  Anna/'  her  lover  said. 
"You've  got  to  know  life  to  know  love." 

Gazing  over  the  sparkling  waters,  Anna  wondered  if 
Zudie,  soon  to  be  happy  on  the  other  side  of  the  world,  knew 
what  life  is.  The  wind  was  dying  with  the  afternoon,  and 
a  splendid  peace  had  settled  over  the  Presidio  hills.  A  hot 
edge  of  the  sun  had  already  cut  its  way  into  the  thin  line 
of  violet  mist  lying  across  the  westward  ocean. 

"Isn't  it  strange,"  said  Anna  dreamily;  "when  the  sun 
is  setting  in  America  it  is  just  rising  in  Japan  ?" 

"That's  a  beautiful  idea,"  muttered  Dune  Leacy. 
"There's  something  terrible  about  it  too." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII:    ELY 


ANNA  did  go  East  after  all,  but  it  was  on  her  wedding 
trip.  When  they  came  back  to  take  up  their  home  in 
the  colonial  house  on  the  island  the  rainy  season  had  set  in ; 
but  the  showers  were  intermittent,  and  California  news 
papers  were  already  lamenting  the  shortage. 

During  one  of  the  bright  weeks  between  rains  Dune  and 
Anna  drove  along  the  concrete  road  through  the  twisted 
streets  of  Ely.  The  change  in  the  town  was  not  obvious 
at  first;  it  required  careful  inspection  to  see  that  all  the 
signs  on  the  stores  were  now  in  Japanese.  A  fat  Japanese, 
plainly  the  proprietor,  stood  blinking  on  the  steps  of  the 
grocery  which  had  so  recently  held  the  defiant  sign  of 
Henry  Ward.  Anna  wondered  just  what  riotous  scenes 
had  preceded  Mr.  Ward's  capitulation. 

Dune  Leacy  slowed  down  in  front  of  the  Japanese 
Methodist  Church.  A  little  woman  in  a  prim  tailor-made 
suit  had  just  come  out  of  the  door  and  was  walking  mine- 
ingly  round  the  corner.  She  did  not  recognize  Anna,  who 
gave  a  thankful  sigh  at  the  sight  of  Mrs.  Awaga,  still  hold" 
ing  her  own. 

"Want  to  go  in?"  asked  the  bridegroom  of  his  bride. 

"No,  dear.     But  you  see  that  Tazumi  kept  his  word." 

"If  he'd  been  working  for  a  white  man  I  wonder  if  he'd 
have  kept  it  as  well,"  suggested  Dune. 

"Hush,  hush,  Jap  hater!"  cautioned  the  bride,  giving  her 
he-man  an  affectionate  slap  on  the  elbow. 

As  they  were  passing  what  had  once  been  the  Ely  prop- 


352  SEED  OF  THE  SUN 

erty  Dune  slowed  down  again.  Plowing  between  rows  of 
naked  trees,  they  saw  Mr.  Shimba,  Esq.  He  seemed  to 
have  grown  a  little  stouter ;  and  as  he  recognized  his  former 
half  sharer  he  removed  his  battered  straw  hat  and  grinned 
from  ear  to  ear. 

"How  nice  for  you !"  he  cooed  and  hissed  several  times. 
"Everything  deliciously  O.K.  inside  this  ranch." 

"And  how  is  Mrs.  Shimba?"  asked  Anna,  curious  to 
know  how  that  venture  had  turned  out. 

"Ah,  you  look  see  how  nice !" 

Shimba  waved  a  horny  hand  toward  a  little  dumpy  figure, 
bending  laboriously  over  a  hoe.  Beside  the  woman  stood 
a  perambulator  from  whose  depths  a  feeble  wail  proclaimed 
that  heaven  had  smiled  very  promptly  upon  the  house  of 
Shimba. 


|THE  END 


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